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ARNOLD  BENNETT 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2008  with  funding  from 

IVIicrosoft  Corporation 


http://www.archive.org/details/denryaudaciousOObenn 


Denry  the  Audacious 


Denry  the  Audacious 


By 
Arnold  Bennett 

Author  of  "  Clayhanger  " 


NEW  YORK 

EP- BUTTON  6f  COMPANY 

31  West  Twenty-Third  Street 


The  Deeds  of  Denry  the  Audacious 

Copyright,  1910,  by 

e,  p.  button  &  company 
Denry  the  Audacious 

Copyright,  1911,  by 
E.  P.  DUTTON  &  COMPANY 


XCbe  ftnfclierbocfiec  prese,  "Rrw  ]|?orft 


6^003 


CONTENTS 


I.  The  Dance 

II.  The  Widow  Hullins's  House 

III.  The  Pantechnicon 

IV.  Wrecking  op  a  Life    . 

V.  The  Mercantile  Marine    . 

VI.  His  Burglary 

VII.  The   Rescuer  of  Dames    . 

VIII.  Raising  a  Wigwam     . 

IX.  The  Great  Newspaper  War 

X.  His  Infamy 

XI.  In  the  Alps 

XII.  The  Supreme  Honour 


1 

29 

58 
90 
116 
148 
177 
207 
240 
266 
297 
328 


62-3043 


Denry  the  Audacious 


Denry  the  Audacious 


CHAPTER  I.     THE  DANCE 


Edward  Henry  Machin  first  saw  the  smoke 
on  the  27th  May,  1867,  in  Brougham  Street, 
Bursley,  the  most  ancient  of  the  Five  Towns. 
Brougham  Street  runs  down  from  St.  Luke's 
Square  straight  into  the  Shropshire  Union 
Canal,  and  consists  partly  of  buildings  known 
as  "  potbanks  "  (until  they  come  to  be  sold  by 
auction,  when  auctioneers  describe  them  as  "  ex- 
tensive earthenware  manufactories  ")  and  partly 
of  cottages  whose  highest  rent  is  four-and-six 
a  week.  In  such  surroundings  was  an  extraor- 
dinary man  born.  He  was  the  only  anxiety  of 
a  widowed  mother,  who  gained  her  livelihood 
and  his  by  making  up  "  ladies'  own  materials  " 
in  ladies'  own  houses.  Mrs.  Machin,  however, 
had  a  specialty  apart  from  her  vocation;  she 
could  wash  flannel  with  less  shrinking  than  any 


2  Denry  the  Audacious 

other  woman  in  the  district,  and  she  could  wash 
fine  lace  without  ruining  it;  thus  often  she  came 
to  sew  and  remained  to  wash.  A  somewhat 
gloomy  woman;  thin,  with  a  tongue!  But  I 
liked  her.  She  saved  a  certain  amount  of  time 
every  day  by  addressing  her  son  as  Denry  in- 
stead of  Edward  Henry. 

Not  intellectual,  not  industrious,  Denry  would 
have  maintained  the  average  dignity  of  labour 
on  a  potbank  had  he  not  at  the  age  of  twelve 
won  a  scholarship  from  the  Board  School  to  the 
Endowed  School.  He  owed  his  triumph  to  au- 
dacity rather  than  learning,  and  to  chance  rather 
than  design.  On  the  second  day  of  the  examina- 
tion he  happened  to  arrive  in  the  examination 
room  ten  minutes  too  soon  for  the  afternoon 
sitting.  He  wandered  about  the  place  exercising 
his  curiosity,  and  reached  the  master's  desk.  On 
the  desk  was  a  tabulated  form  with  names  of 
candidates  and  the  number  of  marks  achieved 
by  each  in  each  subject  of  the  previous  day. 
He  had  done  badly  in  Geography,  and  saw  seven 
marks  against  his  name  in  the  geographical 
column,  out  of  a  possible  thirty.  The  figures 
had  been  written  in  pencil.  The  very  pencil  lay 
on  the  desk.  He  picked  it  up,  glanced  at  the 
door  and  at  the  rows  of  empty  desks,  and 
wrote  a  neat  "2"  in  front  of  the  7;  then  he 
strolled  innocently  forth  and  came  back  late. 
His  trick  ought  to  have  been  found  out — the 


The  Dance  3 

odds  were  against  him — but  it  was  not  found 
out.  Of  course  it  was  dislionest.  Yes,  but  I 
will  not  agree  that  Denry  was  uncommonly 
vicious.  Every  schoolboy  is  dishonest,  by  the 
adult  standard.  If  I  knew  an  honest  schoolboy 
I  would  begin  to  count  my  silver  spoons  as  he 
grew  up.  All  is  fair  between  schoolboys  and 
schoolmasters. 

This  dazzling  feat  seemed  to  influence  not  only 
Denry's  career  but  also  his  character.  He  grad- 
ually came  to  believe  that  he  had  won  the 
scholarship  by  genuine  merit,  and  that  he  was 
a  remarkable  boy  and  destined  to  great  ends. 
His  new  companions,  whose  mothers  employed 
Denry's  mother,  also  believed  that  he  w^as  a  re- 
markable boy;  but  they  did  not  forget,  in  their 
cheerful  gentlemanly  w^ay,  to  call  him  "  washer- 
woman." Happily  Denry  did  not  mind.  He 
had  a  tliick  skin,  and  fair  hair  and  bright  eyes 
and  broad  shoulders,  and  the  jolly  gaiety  of  his 
disposition  developed  daily.  He  did  not  shine 
at  the  school ;  he  failed  to  fulfil  the  rosy  promise 
of  the  scholarship;  but  he  was  not  stupider  than 
the  majority ;  and  his  opinion  of  himself,  having 
once  risen,  remained  at  "  set  fair."  It  was  in- 
conceivable that  he  should  work  in  clay  with  his 
hands. 

When  he  w^as  sixteen  his  mother,  by  opera- 
tions on  a  yard  and  a  half  of  Brussels  point 
lace,  put  Mrs.  Emery  under  an  obligation.    Mrs. 


4  Denry  the  Audacious 

Emery  was  the  sister  of  Mr.  Duncalf.  Mr.  Dnn- 
calf  was  the  Town  Clerk  of  Bursley,  and  a 
solicitor.  It  is  well  known  that  all  bureau- 
cracies are  honeycombed  with  intrigue.  Denry 
Machin  left  school  to  be  clerk  to  Mr.  Duncalf, 
on  the  condition  that  within  a  year  he  should 
be  able  to  write  shorthand  at  the  rate  of  a  hun- 
dred and  fifty  words  a  minute.  In  those  days 
mediocre  and  incorrect  shorthand  was  not  a 
drug  in  the  market.  He  complied  (more  or  less, 
and  decidedly  less  than  more)  with  the  condi- 
tion. And  for  several  years  he  really  thought 
that  he  had  nothing  further  to  hope  for.  Then 
he  met  the  Countess. 


II 


The  Countess  of  Chell  was  born  of  poor  but 
picturesque  parents,  and  she  could  put  her  finger 
on  her  great-grandfather's  grandfather.  Her 
mother  gained  her  livelihood  and  her  daughter's 
by  allowing  herself  to  be  seen  a  great  deal  witli 
humbler  but  richer  people's  daughters.  The 
Countess  was  brought  up  to  matrimony.  She 
was  aimed  and  timed  to  hit  a  given  mark  at 
a  given  moment.  She  succeeded.  She  married 
the  Earl  of  Chell.  She  also  married  about 
twenty  thousand  acres  in  England,  about  a  fifth 
of  Scotland,  a  house  in  Picadilly,  seven  coun- 
try seats  (including  Sneyd),  a  steam-yacht,  and 


The  Dance  5 

five  hundred  thousand  pounds'  worth  of  shares 
in  the  Midland  Railway.  She  was  young  and 
pretty.  She  had  travelled  in  China  and  written 
a  book  about  China.  She  sang  at  charity  con- 
certs and  acted  in  private  theatricals.  She 
sketched  from  nature.  She  was  one  of  the  great 
hostesses  of  London.  And  she  had  not  the 
slightest  tendency  to  stoutness.  All  this  did 
not  satisfy  her.  She  was  ambitious!  She 
wanted  to  be  taken  seriously.  She  wanted  to 
enter  into  the  life  of  the  people.  She  saw  in 
the  quarter  of  a  million  souls  that  constitute 
the  Five  Towns  a  unique  means  to  her  end,  an 
unrivalled  toy.  And  she  determined  to  be  iden- 
tified with  all  that  was  most  serious  in  the  social 
progress  of  the  Five  Towns.  Hence  some  fifteen 
thousand  pounds  were  spent  in  refurbishing 
Sneyd  Hall,  which  lies  on  the  edge  of  the  Five 
Towns,  and  the  Earl  and  Countess  passed  four 
months  of  the  year  there.  Hence  the  Earl,  a 
mild,  retiring  man,  when  invited  by  the  Town 
Council  to  be  the  ornamental  Mayor  of  Burs- 
ley,  accepted  the  invitation.  Hence  the  Mayor 
and  Mayoress  gave  an  immense  afternoon  recep- 
tion, to  practically  the  entire  roll  of  burgesses. 
And  hence,  a  little  later,  the  Mayoress  let  it  be 
known  that  she  meant  to  give  a  municipal  ball. 
The  news  of  the  ball  thrilled  Bursley  more  than 
anything  had  thrilled  Bursley  since  the  signing 
of  Magna  Charta.     Nevertheless  municipal  balls 


6  Denry  the  Audacious 

had  been  ofifered  by  previous  mayoresses.  One 
can  only  suppose  that  in  Bursley  there  remains 
a  peculiar  respect  for  land,  railway  stock,  steam- 
yachts,  and  great-grandfather's  grandfathers. 

Now  everybody  of  account  had  been  asked  to 
the  reception.  But  everybody  could  not  be 
asked  to  the  ball,  because  not  more  than  two 
hundred  people  could  dance  in  the  Town  Hall. 
There  were  nearly  thirty-five  thousand  inhabi- 
tants in  Bursley,  of  whom  quite  two  thousand 
"  counted,"  even  though  they  did  not  dance. 

Ill 

Three  weeks  and  three  days  before  the  ball, 
Denry  Machin  was  seated  one  Monday  alone  in 
Mr.  Duncalf's  private  offices  in  Duck  Square 
(where  he  carried  on  his  practice  as  a  solicitor) 
when  in  stepped  a  tall  and  pretty  young  woman 
dressed  very  smartly  but  soberly  in  dark  green. 
On  the  desk  in  front  of  Denry  were  several  wide 
sheets  of  "  abstract "  paper,  concealed  by  a  copy 
of  that  morning's  Athletic  News,  Before  Denry 
could  even  think  of  reversing  the  positions  of 
the  abstract  paper  and  the  Athletic  Netvs,  the 
young  woman  said,  "  Good  morning,"  in  a  very 
friendly  style.  She  had  a  shrill  voice  and  an 
efficient  smile. 

"  Good  morning,  Madam,"  said  Denry. 

"  Mr.  Duncalf  in?  "  asked  the  young  woman. 


The  Dance  7 

'^(Why  should  Denry  have  slipped  off  his  stool? 
It  is  utterly  against  etiquette  for  solicitors' 
clerks  to  slip  off  their  stools  while  answering 
enquiries. ) 

"  No,  Madam ;  he  's  across  at  the  Town  Hall," 
said  Denry. 

The  young  lady  shook  her  head  playfully,  with 
a  faint  smile. 

"  I  've  just  been  there,"  she  said.  "  They  said 
he  was  here." 

"  I  daresay  I  could  find  him.  Madam — if  you 
would " 

She  now  smiled  broadly.  "  Conservative  Club, 
I  suppose? "  she  said,  with  an  air  deliciously 
confidential. 

He  too  smiled. 

"  Oh,  no,"  she  said,  after  a  little  pause,  "  just 
tell  him  I  've  called." 

"  Certainly,  Madam.     Nothing  I  can  do?  " 

She  was  already  turning  away,  but  she  turned 
back  and  scrutinised  his  face,  as  Denry  thought, 
roguishly. 

"  You  might  just  give  him  this  list,"  she  said, 
taking  a  paper  from  her  satchel  and  spreading 
it.  She  had  come  to  the  desk;  their  elbows 
touched.  "  He  is  n't  to  take  any  notice  of  the 
crossings-out  in  red  ink — you  understand.  Of 
course  I  'm  relying  on  him  for  the  other  lists^ 
and  I  expect  all  the  invitations  to  be  out  on 
Wednesday.     Good  morning." 


8  Denry  the  Audacious 

She  was  gone.  He  sprang  to  the  grimy  win- 
dow. Outside,  in  the  snow,  were  a  brougham, 
twin  horses,  twin  men  in  yellow,  and  a  little 
crowd  of  youngsters  and  oldsters.  She  flashed 
across  the  footpath,  and  vanished;  the  door  of 
the  carriage  banged,  one  of  the  twins  in  yellow 
leaped  up  to  his  brother,  and  the  whole  affair 
dashed  dangerously  away.  The  face  of  the  leap- 
ing twin  was  familiar  to  Denry.  The  man  had 
indeed  once  inhabited  Brougham  Street,  being 
known  to  the  street  as  Jock,  and  his  mother 
had  for  long  years  been  a  friend  of  Mrs. 
Machin's. 

It  was  the  first  time  Denry  had  seen  the 
Countess,  save  at  a  distance.  Assuredly  she  was 
finer  even  than  her  photographs.  Entirely  dif- 
ferent from  what  one  would  have  expected !  So 
easy  to  talk  to!  (Yet  what  had  he  said  to  her? 
Nothing — and  everything.) 

He  nodded  his  head,  and  murmured,  "  No 
mistake  about  that  lot !  "  Meaning,  presumably, 
that  all  that  one  had  read  about  the  brilliance 
of  the  aristocracy  was  true,  and  more  than 
true. 

"  She 's  the  finest  woman  that  ever  came  into 
this  town,"  he  murmured. 

The  truth  was  that  she  surpassed  his  dreams 
of  womanhood.  At  two  o'clock  she  had  been  a 
name  to  him.  At  five  minutes  past  two  he  was 
in  love  with  her.     He  felt  profoundly  thankful 


The  Dance  9 

that,  for  a  church  tea-meeting  that  evening,  he 
happened  to  be  wearing  his  best  clothes. 

It  was  while  looking  at  her  list  of  invitations 
to  the  ball  that  he  fibpst  conceived  the  fantastic 
scheme  of  attending  the  ball  himself.  Mr.  Dun- 
calf  was,  fussily  and  deferentially,  managing  the 
machinery  of  the  ball  for  the  Countess.  He  had 
prepared  a  little  list  of  his  own,  of  people  who 
ought  to  be  invited.  Several  aldermen  had  been 
requested  to  do  the  same.  There  were  thus 
about  a  dozen  lists  to  be  combined  into  one. 
Denry  did  the  combining.  Nothing  was  easier 
than  to  insert  the  name  of  E.  H.  Machin  incon- 
spicuously towards  the  centre  of  the  list!  No- 
thing was  easier  than  to  lose  the  original  lists, 
inadvertently,  so  that  if  a  question  arose  as  to 
any  particular  name  the  responsibility  for  it 
could  not  be  ascertained  without  enquiries  too 
delicate  to  be  made.  On  Wednesday  Denry  re- 
ceived a  lovely  Bristol  board  stating  in  copper 
plate  that  the  Countess  desired  the  pleasure  of 
his  company  at  the  ball;  and  on  Thursday  his 
name  was  ticked  off  on  the  list  as  one  who  had 
accepted. 


IV 


He  had  never  been  to  a  dance.     He  had  no 
dress-suit,  and  no  notion  of  dancing. 

He  was  a  strange  inconsequent  mixture  of 


lo  Denry  the  Audacious 

courage  and  timidity.  You  and  I  are  consistent 
in  character;  we  are  either  one  thing  or  the 
other;  but  Denry  Machin  had  no  consist- 
ency. 

For  three  days  he  hesitated,  and  then,  secretly 
trembling,  he  slipped  into  Sillitoe's  the  young 
tailor  who  had  recently  set  up  and  who  was 
gathering  together  the  jeunesse  doree  of  the 
town. 

"  I  want  a  dress-suit,"  he  said. 

Sillitoe,  who  knew  that  Denry  only  earned 
eighteen  shilling  a  week,  replied  with  only  su- 
perficial politeness  that  a  dress-suit  was  out  of 
the  question;  he  had  already  taken  more  orders 
than  he  could  execute  without  killing  himself. 
The  whole  town  had  uprisen  as  one  man  and 
demanded  a  dress-suit. 

"  So  you  're  going  to  the  ball,  are  you?  "  said 
Sillitoe,  trying  to  condescend,  but  in  fact  slightly 
impressed. 

"  Yes,"  said  Denry,  "  are  you?  " 

Sillitoe  started  and  then  shook  his  head.  "  No 
time  for  balls,"  said  he. 

"  I  can  get  you  an  invitation,  if  you  like," 
said  Denry,  glancing  at  the  door  precisely  as  he 
had  glanced  at  the  door  before  adding  2 
to  7. 

"Oh!"  Sillitoe  cocked  his  ears.  He  was  not 
a  native  of  the  town,  and  had  no  alderman  to 
protect  his  legitimate  interests. 


The  Dance  ii 

To  cut  a  shameful  story  short,  in  a  week  Denry 
was  being  tried  on.  Sillitoe  allowed  him  two 
years'  credit. 

The  prospect  of  the  ball  gave  an  immense 
impetus  to  the  study  of  the  art  of  dancing  in 
Bursley,  and  so  put  quite  a  nice  sum  of  money 
into  the  pocket  of  Miss  Earp,  a  young  mistress 
in  that  art.  She  was  the  daughter  of  a  furniture 
dealer  with  a  passion  for  the  bankruptcy  court. 
Miss  Earp's  evening  classes  were  attended  by 
Denry,  but  none  of  his  money  went  into  her 
pocket.  She  was  compensated  by  an  expression 
of  the  Countess's  desire  for  the  pleasure  of  her 
company  at  the  ball. 

The  Countess  had  aroused  Denry's  interest  in 
women  as  a  sex.  Ruth  Earp  quickened  the  in- 
terest. She  was  plain,  but  she  was  only  twenty- 
four,  and  very  graceful  on  her  feet.  Denry  had 
one  or  two  strictly  private  lessons  from  her  in 
reversing.  She  said  to  him  one  evening,  when 
he  was  practising  reversing  and  they  were  en- 
twined in  the  attitude  prescribed  by  the  latest 
fashion :  "  Never  mind  me !  Think  about  your- 
self. It 's  the  same  in  dancing  as  it  is  in  life 
— the  woman's  duty  is  to  adapt  herself  to  the 
man."  He  did  think  about  himself.  He  was 
thinking  about  himself  in  the  middle  of  the  night, 
and  about  her  too.  There  had  been  something 
in  her  tone  .  .  .  her  eye  .  .  .  !  At  the  final 
lesson  he  enquired  if  she  would  give  him   the 


12  Denry  the  Audacious 

first  waltz  at  the  ball.     She  paused,  then  said 
yes. 


On  the  evening  of  the  ball,  Denry  spent  at 
least  two  hours  in  the  operation  which  was  neces- 
sary before  he  could  give  the  Countess  the  pleas- 
ure of  his  company.  This  operation  took  place 
in  his  minute  bedroom  at  the  back  of  the  cottage 
An  Brougham  Street,  and  it  was  of  a  complex 
nature.  Three  weeks  ago  he  had  innocently 
thought  that  you  had  only  to  order  a  dress-suit 
and  there  you  were !  He  now  knew  that  a  dress- 
suit  is  merely  the  beginning  of  anxiety.  Shirt! 
Collar!  Tie!  Studs!  Cuff-links!  Gloves!  Hand- 
kerchief! (He  was  very  glad  to  learn  author- 
itatively from  Sillitoe  that  handkerchiefs  were 
no  longer  worn  in  the  waistcoat  opening,  and 
that  men  who  so  wore  them  were  barbarians  and 
the  truth  was  not  in  them.  Thus,  an  everyday 
handkerchief  would  do.)  Boots!  .  .  .  Boots 
were  the  rock  on  which  he  had  struck.  Silli- 
toe, in  addition  to  being  a  tailor,  was  a  hosier, 
but  by  some  flaw  in  the  scheme  of  the  universe 
hosiers  do  not  sell  boots.  Except  boots  Denry 
could  get  all  he  needed  on  credit;  boots  he  could 
not  get  on  credit,  and  he  could  not  pay  cash  for 
them.  Eventually  he  decided  that  his  church 
boots  must  be  dazzled  up  to  the  level  of  this 
great  secular  occasion.     The  pity  was  that  he 


The  Dance  13 

forgot — not  that  he  was  of  a  forgetful  disposition 
in  great  matters;  he  was  simply  over-excited — 
he  forgot  to  dazzle  them  up  until  after  he  had 
fairly  put  his  collar  on  and  his  necktie  in  a  bow. 
It  is  imprudent  to  touch  blacking  in  a  dress- 
shirt.  So  Denry  had  to  undo  the  past  and  be- 
gin again.  This  hurried  him.  He  was  not 
afraid  of  being  late  for  the  first  waltz  with  Miss 
Ruth  Earp,  but  he  was  afraid  of  not  being  out 
of  the  house  before  his  mother  returned.  Mrs. 
Machin  had  been  making  up  a  lady's  own  mate- 
rials all  day,  naturally — the  day  being  what  it 
was!  If  she  had  had  twelve  hands  instead  of 
two,  she  might  have  made  up  the  own  materials 
of  half  a  dozen  ladies  instead  of  one,  and  earned 
twenty-four  shillings  instead  of  four.  Denry 
did  not  want  his  mother  to  see  him  ere  he  de- 
parted. He  had  lavished  an  enormous  amount 
of  brains  and  energy  to  the  end  of  displaying 
himself  in  this  refined  and  novel  attire  to  the 
gaze  of  two  hundred  persons,  and  yet  his  secret 
wish  was  to  deprive  his  mother  of  the  beautiful 
spectacle ! 

However,  she  slipped  in,  with  her  bag  and 
her  seamy  fingers  and  her  rather  sardonic  ex- 
pression, at  the  very  moment  when  Denry  was 
putting  on  his  overcoat  in  the  kitchen  (there 
being  insufficient  room  in  the  passage).  He  did 
what  he  could  to  hide  his  shirt-front  (though 
she  knew  all  about  it)  and  failed. 


14  Denry  the  Audacious 

"Bless  us!"  she  exclaimed  briefly,  going  to 
the  fire  to  warm  her  hands. 

A  harmless  remark.  But  her  tone  seemed  to 
strip  bare  the  vanity  of  human  greatness. 

"  I  'm  in  a  hurry,"  said  Denry  importantly,  as 
if  he  was  going  forth  to  sign  a  treaty  involving 
the  welfare  of  nations. 

"  Well,"  said  she,  "  happen  ye  are,  Denry. 
But  the  kitchen  table's  no  place  for  boot- 
brushes." 

He  had  one  piece  of  luck.  It  froze.  There- 
fore, no  anxiety  about  the  condition  of  boots! 


VI 


The  Countess  was  late;  some  trouble  with  a 
horse.  Happily  the  Earl  had  been  in  Bursley 
all  day  and  had  dressed  at  the  Conservative 
Club;  and  his  lordship  had  ordered  that  the 
programme  of  dances  should  be  begun.  Denry 
learned  this  as  soon  as  he  emerged,  effulgent, 
from  the  gentlemen's  cloak-room  into  the  broad 
red-carpeted  corridor  which  runs  from  end  to  end 
of  the  ground-floor  of  the  Town  Hall.  Many 
important  townspeople  were  chatting  in  the  cor- 
ridor— the  innumerable  Sweetnam  family,  the 
Stanways,  the  great  Etches,  the  Fearnses,  Mrs. 
Clayton  Vernon,  the  Suttons,  including  Bea- 
trice Sutton.  Of  course  everybody  knew  him  for 
Duncalf's  shorthand  clerk  and  the  son  of  the 


The  Dance  15 

incomparable  flannel-washer ;  but  universal  white 
kid  gloves  constitute  a  democracy,  and  Sillitoe 
could  put  more  style  into  a  suit  than  any  other 
tailor  in  the  Five  Towns. 

"  How  do?  "  the  eldest  of  the  Sweetnam  boys 
nodded  carelessly. 

"  How  do,  Sweetnam?  "  said  Denry  with  equal 
carelessness. 

The  thing  was  accomplished!  That  greeting 
was  like  a  masonic  initiation,  and  henceforward 
he  was  the  peer  of  no  matter  whom.  At  first 
he  had  thought  that  four  hundred  eyes  would 
be  fastened  on  him,  their  glance  saying :  "  This 
youth  is  wearing  a  dress-suit  for  the  first  time, 
and  it  is  not  paid  for,  either !  "  But  it  was  not 
so.  And  the  reason  was  that  the  entire  popu- 
lation of  the  Town  Hall  was  heartily  engaged 
in  pretending  that  never  in  its  life  had  it  been 
seen  after  seven  o'clock  of  a  night  apart  from 
a  dress-suit.  Denry  observed  with  joy  that, 
while  numerous  middle-aged  and  awkward  men 
wore  red  or  white  silk  handkerchiefs  in  their 
waistcoats,  such  people  as  Charles  Fearns,  the 
Sweetnams,  and  Harold  Etches  did  not.  He 
was,  then,  in  the  shyness  of  his  handkerchief,  on 
the  side  of  the  angels. 

He  passed  up  the  double  staircase  (decorated 
with  white  or  pale  frocks  of  unparalleled  rich- 
ness) and  so  into  the  grand  hall.  A  scarlet 
orchestra  was  on  the  platform,  and  many  people 


i6  Denry  the  Audacious 

strolled  about  the  floor  in  attitudes  of  expecta- 
tion. The  walls  were  festooned  with  flowers. 
The  thrill  of  being  magnificent  seized  him,  and 
he  was  drenched  in  a  vast  desire  to  be  truly 
magnificent  himself.  He  dreamt  of  magnifi- 
cence, boot-brushes  kept  sticking  out  of  this 
dream  like  black  mud  out  of  snow.  In  his  rev- 
erie he  looked  about  for  Ruth  Earp,  but  she 
was  invisible.  Then  he  went  down-stairs  again, 
idly;  gorgeously  feigning  that  he  spent  six  even- 
ings a  week  in  ascending  and  descending  monu- 
mental staircases,  appropriately  clad.  He  was 
determined  to  be  as  sublime  as  any  one. 

There  was  a  stir  in  the  corridor,  and  the  sub- 
limest  consented  to  be  excited. 

The  Countess  was  announced  to  be  imminent. 
Everybody  was  grouped  round  the  main  portal, 
careless  of  temperatures.  Six  times  was  the 
Countess  announced  to  be  imminent  before  she 
actually  appeared,  expanding  from  the  narrow 
gloom  of  her  black  carriage  like  a  magic  vision. 
Aldermen  received  her,  and  they  did  not  do  it 
with  any  excess  of  gracefulness.  They  seemed 
afraid  of  her,  as  though  she  was  recovering  from 
influenza  and  they  feared  to  catch  it.  She  had 
precisely  the  same  high  voice,  and  precisely  the 
same  efficient  smile  as  she  had  employed  to 
Denry,  and  these  instruments  worked  marvels 
on  Aldermen ;  they  were  as  melting  as  salt  on 
snow.     The  Countess  disappeared  up-stairs  in  a 


The  Dance  17 

cloud  of  shrill  apologies  and  trailing  Aldermen. 
She  seemed  to  have  greeted  everybody  except 
Denry.  Somehow  he  was  relieved  that  she  had 
not  drawn  attention  to  him.  He  lingered,  hesi- 
tating, and  then  he  saw  a  being  in  a  long  yel- 
low overcoat,  with  a  bit  of  peacock's  feather  at 
the  summit  of  a  shiny  high  hat.  This  being  held 
a  lady's  fur  mantle.  Their  eyes  met.  Denry  had 
to  decide  instantly.     He  decided. 

"  Hello,  Jock !  "  he  said. 

"  Hello,  Denry !  "  said  the  other,  pleased. 

"  What 's  been  happening?  "  Denry  enquired, 
friendly. 

Then  Jock  told  him  about  the  antics  of  one 
of  the  Countess's  horses. 

He  went  up-stairs  again,  and  met  Ruth  Earp 
coming  down.  She  was  glorious  in  white.  Ex- 
cept that  nothing  glittered  in  her  hair,  she  looked 
the  very  equal  of  the  Countess,  at  a  little  dis- 
tance, plain  though  her  features  were. 

"  What  about  that  waltz?  "  Denry  began,  in- 
formally. 

"  That  waltz  is  nearly  over,"  said  Ruth  Earp, 
with  chilliness.  "  I  suppose  you  've  been  star- 
ing at  her  ladyship  with  all  the  other  men." 

"  I  'm  awfully  sorry,"  he  said.  "  I  did  n't 
know  the  waltz  was " 

"  Well,  why  did  n't  you  look  at  your  pro- 
gramme? " 

"  Haven't  got  one,"  he  said  naively. 


i8  Denry  the  Audacious 

He  had  omitted  to  take  a  programme.  Ninny ! 
Barbarian ! 

"  Better  get  one,"  she  said,  cuttingly,  some- 
what in  her  role  of  dancing  mistress. 

"  Can't  we  finish  the  waltz? "  he  suggested, 
crestfallen. 

"  No !  "  she  said,  and  continued  her  solitary 
way  do\\Ti  wards. 

She  was  hurt.  He  tried  to  think  of  something 
to  say  that  was  equal  to  the  situation,  and  equal 
to  the  style  of  his  suit.  But  he  could  not.  In 
a  moment  he  heard  her,  below  him,  greeting 
some  male  acquaintance  in  the  most  effusive  way. 

Yet,  if  Denry  had  not  committed  a  wicked 
crime  for  her,  she  could  never  have  come  to  the 
dance  at  all! 

He  got  a  programme,  and  with  terror  grip- 
ping his  heart  he  asked  sundry  young  and 
middle-aged  women  whom  he  knew  by  sight  and 
by  name  for  a  dance.  (Ruth  had  taught  him 
how  to  ask. )  Not  one  of  them  had  a  dance  left. 
Several  looked  at  him  as  much  as  to  say :  "  You 
must  be  a  goose  to  suppose  that  my  programme 
is  not  filled  up  in  the  twinkling  of  my 
eye !  " 

Then  he  joined  a  group  of  despisers  of  danc- 
ing near  the  main  door.  Harold  Etches  was 
there,  the  wealthiest  manufacturer  of  his  years 
(barely  twenty-four)  in  the  Five  Towns.  Also 
Sillitoe,    cause  of   another   of   Denry's   wicked 


The  Dance  19 

crimes.  The  group  was  taciturn,  critical,  and 
very  doggish. 

The  group  observed  that  the  Countess  was  not 
dancing.  The  Earl  was  dancing  (need  it  be 
said  with  Mrs.  Jos.  Curtenly,  second  wife  of  the 
Deputy  Mayor?),  but  the  Countess  stood  reso- 
lutely smiling,  surrounded  by  Aldermen.  Pos- 
sibly she  was  getting  her  breath ;  possibly  nobody 
had  had  the  pluck  to  ask  her.  Anyhow  she 
seemed  to  be  stranded  there,  on  a  beach  of  Al- 
dermen. Very  wisely  she  had  brought  with  her 
no  members  of  a  house-party  from  Sneyd  Hall. 
Members  of  a  house-party,  at  a  municipal  ball, 
invariably  operate  as  a  bar  between  greatness 
and  democracy;  and  the  Countess  desired  to 
participate  in  the  life  of  the  people. 

"  Why  don't  some  of  those  johnnies  ask  her?  " 
Denry  burst  out.  He  had  hitherto  said  nothing 
in  the  group,  and  he  felt  that  he  must  be  a  man 
with  the  rest  of  them. 

"  Well,  you  go  and  do  it.  It 's  a  free  coun- 
try," said  Sillitoe. 

"  So  I  would,  for  two  pins !  "  said  Denry. 

Harold  Etches  glanced  at  him,  apparently  re- 
sentful of  his  presence  there.  Harold  Etches 
was  determined  to  put  the  extinguisher  on  him. 

"  I  '11  bet  you  a  fiver  you  don't,"  said  Etches, 
scornfully. 

"  I  '11  take  you,"  said  Denry  very  quickly,  and 
very  quickly  walked  off. 


20  Denry  the  Audacious 

VII 

"  She  can't  eat  me.     She  can't  eat  me ! '' 

This  was  what  he  said  to  himself  as  he  crossed 
the  floor.  People  seemed  to  make  a  lane  for 
him,  divining  his  incredible  intention.  If  he 
had  not  started  at  once,  if  his  legs  had  not 
started  of  themselves,  he  would  never  have 
started;  and,  not  being  in  command  of  a  fiver, 
he  would  afterwards  have  cut  a  preposterous 
figure  in  the  group.  But  started  he  was,  like  a 
piece  of  clockwork  that  could  not  be  stopped! 
In  the  grand  crisis  of  his  life  something  not 
himself,  something  more  powerful  than  himself, 
jumped  up  in  him  and  forced  him  to  do  things. 
Now  for  the  first  time  he  seemed  to  understand 
what  had  occurred  within  him  in  previous  crises. 

In  a  second — so  it  appeared — he  had  reached 
the  Countess.  Just  behind  her  was  his  employer, 
Mr.  Duncalf,  whom  Denry  had  not  previously 
noticed  there.  Denry  regretted  this,  for  he  had 
never  mentioned  to  Mr.  Duncalf  that  he  was 
coming  to  the  ball,  and  he  feared  Mr.  Duncalf. 

"  Could  I  have  this  dance  with  you?  "  he  de- 
manded bluntly,  but  smiling  and  showing  his 
teeth. 

No  ceremonial  title !  No  mention  of  "pleasure'* 
or  "  honour."  Not  a  trace  of  the  formula  in 
which  Ruth  Earp  had  instructed  him!  He  for- 
got all  such  trivialities. 


The  Dance  21 

("I've  won  that  fiver,  Mr.  Harold  Etches," 
he  said  to  himself.) 

The  mouths  of  Aldermen  inadvertently  opened. 
Mr.  Duncalf  blenched. 

"  It 's  nearly  over,  is  n't  it?  "  said  the  Coun- 
tess, still  efficiently  smiling.  She  did  not  recog- 
nise Denry.  In  that  suit  he  might  have  been 
a  Foreign  Office  attache. 

"  Oh !  that  does  n't  matter,  I  'm  sure !  "  said 
Denry. 

She  yielded,  and  he  took  the  paradisiacal 
creature  in  his  arms.  It  was  her  business  that 
evening  to  be  universally  and  inclusively  polite. 
She  could  not  have  begun  with  a  refusal.  A 
refusal  might  have  dried  up  all  other  invitations 
whatsoever.  Besides,  she  saw  that  the  Aldermen 
wanted  a  lead.  Besides,  she  was  young,  though 
a  Countess,  and  adored  dancing. 

Thus  they  waltzed  together,  while  the  flower 
of  Bursley's  chivalry  gazed  in  enchantment.  The 
Countess's  fan,  depending  from  her  arm,  dan- 
gled against  Denry's  suit  in  a  rather  confusing 
fashion  which  withdrew  his  attention  from  his 
feet.  He  laid  hold  of  it  gingerly  between  two 
unemployed  fingers.  After  that  he  managed 
fairly  well.  Once  they  came  perilously  near  the 
Earl  and  his  partner;  nothing  else.  And  then 
the  dance  ended,  exactly  when  Denry  had  begun 
to  savour  the  astounding  spectacle  of  himself 
enclasping  the  Countess. 


2  2  Denry  the  Audacious 

The  Countess  had  soon  perceived  that  he  was 
the  merest  boy. 

"You  waltz  quite  nicely!"  she  said,  like  an 
aunt,  but  with  more  than  an  aunt's  smile. 

"Do  I?"  he  beamed.  Then  something  com- 
pelled him  to  say :  "  Do  you  know,  it 's  the  first 
time  I  've  ever  waltzed  in  my  life,  except  in  a 
lesson,  you  know?  " 

"  Really !  "  she  murmured.  "  You  pick  things 
up  easily,  I  suppose?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  said.     "  Do  you?  " 

Either  the  question  or  the  tone  sent  the  Coun- 
tess ofif  into  carillons  of  amusement.  Everybody 
could  see  that  Denry  had  made  the  Countess 
laugh  tremendously.  It  was  on  this  note  that 
the  waltz  finished.  She  was  still  laughing  when 
he  bowed  to  her  (as  taught  by  Ruth  Earp).  He 
could  not  comprehend  why  she  had  so  laughed, 
save  on  the  supposition  that  he  was  more  humor- 
ous than  he  liad  suspected.  Anyliow  he  laughed 
too,  and  they  parted  laughing.  He  remembered 
that  he  had  made  a  marked  effect  (though  not 
one  of  laughter)  on  the  tailor  by  quickly  return- 
ing the  question,  "  Are  you?  "  And  his  unpre- 
meditated stroke  with  the  Countess  was  similar. 
When  he  had  got  ten  yards  on  his  way  towards 
Harold  Etches  and  a  fiver  he  felt  something  in 
his  hand.  The  Countess's  fan  was  sticking  be- 
tween his  fingers.  It  had  unhooked  itself  from 
her  chain.     He  furtively  pocketed  it. 


The  Dance  23 

VIII 

"  Just  the  same  as  dancing  with  any  other 
woman !  " — he  told  this  untruth  in  reply  to  a 
question  from  Sillitoe.  It  was  the  least  he  could 
do.  And  any  other  young  man  in  his  place 
would  have  said  as  much  or  as  little. 

"  What  was  she  laughing  at?  "  somebody  else 
asked. 

"Ah!"  said  Denry  judiciously,  "wouldn't 
you  like  to  know?  " 

"  Here  you  are !  "  said  Etches,  with  an  unat- 
tentive,  plutocratic  gesture  handing  over  a  five- 
pound  note.  He  was  one  of  those  men  who 
never  venture  out  of  sight  of  a  bank  without 
a  banknote  in  their  pockets — "  because  you  never 
know  what  may  turn  up." 

Denry  accepted  the  note  with  a  silent  nod. 
In  some  directions  he  was  gifted  with  astound- 
ing insight.  And  he  could  read  in  the  faces  of 
the  haughty  males  surrounding  him  that  in  the 
space  of  a  few  minutes  he  had  risen  from  nonen- 
tity into  renown.  He  had  become  a  great  man. 
He  did  not  at  once  realise  how  great,  how 
renowned.  But  he  saw  enough  in  those  eyes  to 
cause  his  heart  to  glow,  and  to  rouse  in  his 
brain  those  ambitious  dreams  which  stirred  him 
upon  occasion.  He  left  the  group;  he  had  need 
of  motion,  and  also  of  that  mental  privacy  which 
one  may  enjoy  while  strolling  about  on  a  crowded 


24  Denry  the  Audacious 

floor,  in  the  midst  of  a  considerable  noise.  He 
noticed  that  the  Countess  was  now  dancing  with 
an  Alderman,  and  that  the  Alderman,  by  an  over- 
sight inexcusable  in  an  Alderman,  was  not  wear- 
ing gloves.  It  was  he,  Denry,  who  had  broken 
the  ice  so  that  the  Aldermen  might  plunge  into 
the  water !  He  first  had  danced  with  the  Coun- 
tess, and  had  rendered  her  up  to  the  Alderman 
with  delicious  gaiety  upon  her  countenance.  By 
instinct  he  knew  Bursley,  and  he  knew  that  he 
would  be  talked  of.  He  knew  that,  for  a  time 
at  any  rate,  he  would  displace  even  Jos.  Cur- 
tenly,  that  almost  professional  "  card "  and 
amuser  of  burgesses,  in  the  popular  imagination. 
It  would  not  be :  "  Have  ye  heard  Jos.'s  latest?  " 
It  would  be :  "  Have  ye  heard  about  young 
Machin,  Duncalfs  clerk?  " 

Then  he  met  Ruth  Earp,  strolling  in  the  oppo- 
site direction  with  a  young  girl,  one  of  her 
pupils,  of  whom  all  he  knew  was  that  her  name 
was  Nellie,  and  that  this  was  her  first  ball:  a 
childish  little  thing  with  a  wistful  face.  He 
could  not  decide  whether  to  look  at  Ruth  or  to 
avoid  her  glance.  She  settled  the  point  by  smil- 
ing at  him  in  a  manner  that  could  not  be  ignored. 

"  Are  you  going  to  make  it  up  to  me  for  that 
waltz  you  missed?  "  said  Ruth  Earp.  She  pre- 
tended to  be  vexed  and  stern,  but  he  knew  that 
she  was  not.  "  Or  is  your  programme  full?  " 
she  added. 


The  Dance  25 

"  I  should  like  to,"  he  said  simply. 

"  But  perhaps  you  don't  care  to  dance  with 
us  poor  ordinary  people,  now  you  've  danced 
with  the  Countess!"  she  said,  with  a  certain 
lofty  and  bitter  pride. 

He  perceived  that  his  tone  had  lacked  eager- 
ness. 

"  Don't  talk  like  that,"  he  said,  as  if  hurt. 

"Well,"  she  said,  "you  can  have  the  supper 
dance." 

He  took  her  programme  to  write  on  it. 

"  Why !  "  he  said,  "  there  's  a  name  down  here 
for  the  supper  dance.  *  Herbert '  it  looks 
like." 

"  Oh !  "  she  replied  carelessly,  "  that 's  noth- 
ing.   Cross  it  out." 

So  he  crossed  Herbert  out. 

"  Why  don't  you  ask  Nellie  here  for  a  dance," 
said  Ruth  Earp. 

And  Nellie  blushed.  He  gathered  that  the  pos- 
sible honour  of  dancing  with  the  supremely  great 
man  had  surpassed  Nellie's  modest  expecta- 
tions. 

"  Can  I  have  the  next  one?  "  he  said. 

"Oh,  yes!"  Nellie  timidly  whispered. 

"  It 's  a  polka,  and  you  are  n't  very  good  at 
polking,  you  know,"  Ruth  warned  him.  "  Still, 
Nellie  will  pull  you  through." 

Nellie  laughed,  in  silver.  The  naive  child 
thought    that    Ruth    was    trying    to    joke    at 


26  Denry  the  Audacious 

Denry's  expense.  Her  very  manifest  joy  and 
pride  in  being  seen  with  the  unique  Mr.  Machin, 
in  being  the  next  after  the  Countess  to  dance 
with  him,  made  another  mirror  in  which  Denry 
could  discern  the  reflection  of  his  vast  im- 
portance. 

At  the  supper,  which  was  worthy  of  the  hos- 
pitable traditions  of  the  Chell  family  (though 
served  standing-up  in  the  police-court),  he  learnt 
all  the  gossip  of  the  dance  from  Ruth  Earp; 
amongst  other  things  that  more  than  one  young 
man  had  asked  the  Countess  for  a  dance,  and 
had  been  refused,  though  Ruth  Earp  for  her 
part  declined  to  believe  that  Aldermen  and 
Councillors  had  utterly  absorbed  the  Countess's 
programme.  Ruth  hinted  that  the  Countess  was 
keeping  a  second  dance  open  for  him,  Denry. 
When  she  asked  him  squarely  if  he  meant  to 
request  another  from  the  Countess,  he  said.  No, 
positively.  He  knew  wlien  to  let  well  alone,  a 
knowledge  which  is  more  precious  than  a  know- 
ledge of  geography.  The  supper  was  the  summit 
of  Denry's  triumph.  The  best  people  spoke  to 
him  without  being  introduced.  And  lovely  crea- 
tures mysteriously  and  intoxicatingly  discovered 
that  programmes  which  had  been  crammed  two 
hours  before  were  not  after  all  quite,  quite  full. 

"  Do  tell  us  what  the  Countess  was  laughing 
at?"  This  question  was  shot  at  him  at  least 
thirty  times.     He  always  said  he  would  not  tell, 


The  Dance  27 

And  one  girl  who  had  danced  with  Mr.  Stanway, 
who  had  danced  with  the  Countess,  said  that 
Mr.  Stanway  had  said  that  the  Countess  would 
not  tell,  either.  Proof,  here,  that  he  was  being 
extensively  talked  about! 

Toward  the  end  of  the  festivity  the  rumour 
floated  abroad  that  the  Countess  had  lost  her 
fan.  The  rumour  reached  Denry,  who  main- 
tained a  culpable  silence.  But  when  all  was 
over,  and  the  Countess  was  departing,  he  rushed 
down  after  her,  and  in  a  dramatic  fashion  which 
demonstrated  his  genius  for  the  effective,  he 
caught  her  exactly  as  she  was  getting  into  her 
carriage. 

"  I  've  just  picked  it  up,"  he  said,  pushing 
through  the  crowd  of  worshippers. 

"  Oh !  thank  you  so  much !  "  she  said.  And 
the  Earl  also  thanked  Denry.  And  then  the 
Countess,  leaning  from  the  carriage,  said  with 
archness  in  her  efficient  smile:  "You  do  pick 
things  up  easily,  don't  you?  " 

And  both  Denry  and  the  Countess  laughed 
without  restraint,  and  the  pillars  of  Bursley 
society  were  mystified. 

Denry  winked  at  Jock  as  the  horses  pawed 
away.     And  Jock  winked  back. 

The  envied  of  all,  Denry  walked  home,  think- 
ing violently.  At  a  stroke  he  had  become  pos- 
sessed of  more  than  he  could  earn  from  Duncalf 
in  a  month.     The  faces  of  the  Countess,  of  Ruth 


28  Denry  the  Audacious 

Earp,  and  of  the  timid  Nellie  mingled  in  ex- 
quisite hallucinations  before  his  tired  eyes.  He 
was  inexpressibly  happy.  Trouble,  however, 
awaited  him. 


CHAPTER    II.     THE    WIDOW    HULLINS'S 
HOUSE 


The  simple  fact  that  he  first,  of  all  the  citi- 
zens of  Bursley,  had  asked  a  Countess  for  a 
dance  (and  not  been  refused)  made  a  new  man 
of  Denry  Machin.  He  was  not  only  regarded 
by  the  whole  town  as  a  fellow  wonderful  and 
dazzling;  but  he  so  regarded  himself.  He 
could  not  get  over  it.  He  had  always  been 
cheerful,  even  to  optimism.  He  was  now  in  a 
permanent  state  of  calm,  assured  jollity.  He 
would  get  up  in  the  morning  with  song  and 
dance.  Bursley  and  the  general  world  were  no 
longer  Bursley  and  the  general  world;  they  had 
been  mysteriously  transformed  into  an  oyster; 
and  Denry  felt  strangely  that  the  oyster-knife 
was  lying  about  somewhere  handy,  but  just  out 
of  sight,  and  that  presently  he  should  spy  it  and 
seize  it.     He  waited  for  something  to  happen. 

And  not  in  vain. 

A  few  days  after  the  historic  revelry,  Mrs. 
Codleyn  called  to  see  Denry's  employer.  Mr. 
Duncalf  was  her  solicitor.     A  stout,  breathless, 

29 


30  Denry  the  Audacious 

and  yet  muscular  woman  of  near  sixty,  the 
widow  of  a  chemist  and  druggist  who  had 
made  money  before  limited  companies  had  taken 
the  liberty  of  being  pharmaceutical.  The  money 
had  been  largely  invested  in  mortgage  on  cot- 
tage-property; the  interest  on  it  had  not  been 
paid,  and  latterly  Mrs.  Codleyn  had  been  obliged 
to  foreclose,  thus  becoming  the  owner  of  some 
seventy  cottages.  Mrs.  Codleyn,  though  they 
brought  her  in  about  twelve  pounds  a  week  gross, 
esteemed  these  cottages  an  infliction,  a  bugbear, 
an  affront,  and  a  positive  source  of  loss.  Inva- 
riably she  talked  as  though  she  would  willingly 
present  them  to  anybody  who  cared  to  accept; 
"  and  glad  to  be  rid  of  'em ! "  Most  owners  of 
property  talk  thus.  She  particularly  hated 
paying  the  rates  on  them. 

Now  there  had  recently  occurred,  under  the 
direction  of  the  Borough  Surveyor,  a  re-valuation 
of  the  whole  town.  This  may  not  sound  excit- 
ing; yet  a  re-valuation  is  the  most  exciting  event 
(save  a  municipal  ball  given  by  a  titled  mayor) 
that  can  happen  in  any  town.  If  your  house  is 
rated  at  £40  a  year,  and  rates  are  7/-  in  the  £, 
and  the  re-valuation  lifts  you  up  to  £45,  it  means 
thirty-five  shillings  a  year  right  out  of  your 
pocket,  which  is  the  interest  on  £35.  And  if  the 
re-valuation  drops  you  to  £35,  it  means  thirty- 
five  shillings  in  your  pocket,  which  is  a  box  of 
Havanas  or  a  fancy  waistcoat.     Is  not  this  ex- 


The  Widow  Hullins's  House       3t 

citing?  And  there  are  seven  thousand  houses 
in  Bursley.  Mrs.  Codleyn  hoped  that  her  rat- 
able value  would  be  reduced.  She  based  the 
hope  chiefly  on  the  fact  that  she  was  a  client 
of  Mr.  Duncalf,  the  Town  Clerk.  The  Town 
Clerk  was  not  the  Borough  Surveyor  and  had 
nothing  to  do  with  the  re-valuation.  Moreover 
Mrs.  Codleyn  presumably  entrusted  him  with  her 
affairs  because  she  considered  him  an  honest 
man,  and  an  honest  man  could  not  honestly  have 
sought  to  tickle  the  Borough  Surveyor  out  of 
the  narrow  path  of  rectitude  in  order  to  oblige 
a  client.  Nevertheless  Mrs.  Codleyn  thought 
that  because  she  patronised  the  Town  Clerk  her 
rates  ought  to  be  reduced!  Such  is  human  na- 
ture in  the  provinces — so  different  from  human 
nature  in  London,  where  nobody  ever  dreams  of 
offering  even  a  match  to  a  municipal  official,  lest 
the  act  might  be  construed  into  an  insult. 

It  was  on  a  Saturday  morning  that  Mrs.  Cod- 
leyn called  to  impart  to  Mr.  Duncalf  the  dis- 
satisfaction with  which  she  had  learned  the  news 
(printed  on  a  bit  of  bluish  paper)  that  her  ratable 
value,  far  from  being  reduced,  had  been  slightly 
augmented. 

The  interview,  as  judged  by  the  clerks  through 
a  lath-and-plaster  wall  and  by  means  of  a  speak- 
ing tube,  atoned  by  its  vivacity  for  its  lack  of 
ceremony.  When  the  stairs  had  finished  creak- 
ing under  the  descent  of  Mrs.  Codleyn's  righ- 


32  Denry  the  Audacious 

teous  fury,  Mr.  Duncalf  whistled  sharply  twice. 
Two  whistles  meant  Denry.  Denry  picked  up 
his  shorthand  note-book  and  obeyed  the  sum- 
mons. 

"  Take  this  down,"  said  his  master  rudely  and 
angrily. 

Just  as  though  Denry  had  abetted  Mrs.  Cod- 
leyn!  Just  as  though  Denry  w^as  not  a  per- 
sonage of  high  importance  in  the  town,  the 
friend  of  Countesses,  and  a  shorthand  clerk  only 
on  the  surface! 

"  Do  you  hear?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Madam " — hitherto  it  had  always  been 
"  dear  Madam,"  or  "  dear  Mrs.  Codleyn  " — 
"  Madam.  Of  course  I  need  hardly  say  that  if, 
after  our  interview  this  morning  and  your  ex- 
traordinary remarks,  you  wish  to  place  your 
interests  in  other  hands,  I  shall  be  most  happy 
to  hand  over  all  the  papers  on  payment  of  my 
costs.     Yours  truly  ...  To  Mrs.  Codleyn." 

Denry  reflected.  "  Ass !  Why  does  n't  he  let 
her  cool  down?"  Also:  "He's  got  *  hands' 
and  '  hand '  in  the  same  sentence.  Very  ugly. 
Shows  what  a  temper  he 's  in ! "  Shorthand 
clerks  are  always  like  that — hypercritical.  Also : 
"Well,  I  jolly  well  hope  she  does  chuck  him! 
Then  I  sha  n't  have  those  rents  to  collect." 
Every  Monday,  and  often  on  Tuesday  too,  Denry 
collected  the  rents  of  Mrs.  Codleyn's  cottages :  an 


The  Widow  Hullins's  House       33 

odious  task  for  Denry.  Mr.  Duncalf,  though  not 
affected  by  its  odiousness,  deducted  7^/2  per  cent, 
for  the  Job  from  the  rents. 

"  That  '11  do,"  said  Mr.  Duncalf. 

But  as  Denry  was  leaving  the  room,  Mr. 
Duncalf  called  with  formidable  brusqueness: 

"  Machin." 

"  Yes,  sir?  " 

In  a  flash  Denry  knew  what  was  coming.  He 
felt,  sickly,  that  a  crisis  had  supervened  with  the 
suddenness  of  a  tidal  wave.  And  for  one  little 
second  it  seemed  to  him  that  to  have  danced 
with  a  Countess  while  the  flow^er  of  Bursley's 
chivalry  watched  in  envious  wonder,  was  not 
after  all  the  key  to  the  door  of  success  through- 
out life. 

Undoubtedly  he  had  practised  fraud  in  send- 
ing to  himself  an  invitation  to  the  ball!  Un- 
doubtedly he  had  practised  fraud  in  sending 
invitations  to  his  tailor  and  his  dancing-mistress ! 
On  the  day  after  tlie  ball,  beneath  his  great 
glory,  he  had  trembled  to  meet  Mr.  Duncalf 's 
eye  lest  Mr.  Duncalf  should  ask  him :  "  Machin, 
what  were  you  doing  at  the  Town  Hall  last  night, 
behaving  as  if  you  were  the  Shah  of  Persia,  the 
Prince  of  Wales,  and  Mr.  George  Alexander?  " 
But  Mr.  Duncalf  had  said  nothing,  and  Mr.  Dun- 
calf's  eye  had  said  nothing,  and  Denry  thought 
that  the  danger  Avas  past. 

Now  it  surged  up. 


34  Denry  the  Audacious 

"  Who  invited  you  to  the  Mayor's  ball? " 
demanded  Mr.  Duncalf  like  thunder. 

Yes,  there  it  was!  And  a  very  difficult 
question ! 

"  I  did,  sir,"  he  blundered  out.  Transparent 
veracity!     He  simply  could  not  think  of  a  lie. 

"Why?" 

"  I  thought  you  'd  perhaps  forgotten  to  put  my 
name  down  on  the  list  of  invitations,  sir." 

"  Oh !  "  This,  grimly.  "  And  I  suppose  you 
thought  I  'd  also  forgotten  to  put  down  that 
tailor  chap,  Sillitoe?  " 

So  it  was  all  out!  Sillitoe  must  have  been 
chattering.  Denry  remembered  that  the  classic 
established  tailor  of  the  town,  Hatterton,  whose 
trade  Sillitoe  was  filching,  was  a  particular 
friend  of  Mr.  Duncalfs.  He  saw  the  whole 
thing. 

"Well?"  persisted  Mr.  Duncalf,  after  a  judi- 
cious silence  from  Denry. 

Denry,  sheltered  in  the  castle  of  his  silence, 
was  not  to  be  tempted  out. 

"  I  suppose  you  rather  fancy  yourself,  danc- 
ing with  your  betters?  "  growled  Mr.  Duncalf, 
menacingly. 

"  Yes,"  said  Denry.     "  Do  you?  " 

He  had  not  meant  to  say  it.  The  question 
slipped  out  of  his  mouth.  He  had  recently 
formed  the  habit  of  retorting  swiftly  upon  peo- 
ple who  put  queries  to  him :     "  Yes,  are  you?  " 


The  Widow  Hullins's  House        35 

or  "  No,  do  you?  "  The  trick  of  speech  had  been 
enormously  effective  with  Sillitoe,  for  instance, 
and  with  the  Countess.  He  was  in  process  of 
acquiring  renown  for  it.  Certainly  it  was  effec- 
tive now.  Mr.  Duncalf's  dance  with  the  Coun- 
tess had  come  to  an  ignominious  conclusion  in 
the  middle,  Mr.  Duncalf  preferring  to  dance  on 
skirts  rather  than  on  the  floor — and  the  fact  was 
notorious. 

"  You  can  take  a  week's  notice,"  said  Mr. 
Duncalf  pompously. 

It  was  no  argument.  But  employers  are  so 
unscrupulous  in  an  altercation. 

"Oh,  very  well!"  said  Denry;  and  to  himself 
he  said:     "Something  must  turn  up,  now." 

He  felt  dizzy,  at  being  thus  thrown  upon  the 
world — he  who  had  been  meditating  the  pro- 
priety of  getting  himself  elected  to  the  stylish  and 
newly-established  Sports  Club  at  Hillport!  He 
felt  enraged,  for  Mr.  Duncalf  had  only  been 
venting  on  Denry  the  annoyance  induced  on  him 
by  Mrs.  Codleyn.  But  it  is  remarkable  that  he 
was  not  depressed  at  all.  No!  he  went  about 
with  songs  and  whistling,  though  he  had  no 
prospects  except  starvation  or  living  on  his 
mother.  He  traversed  the  streets  in  his  grand, 
new  manner,  and  his  thoughts  ran :  "  What 
on  earth  can  I  do  to  live  up  to  my  reputa- 
tion?" 

However   he   possessed   intact   the  five-pound 


36  Denry  the  Audacious 

note  won  from  Harold  Etches  in  the  matter  of 
the  dance. 


II 


Every  life  is  a  series  of  coincidences.  Nothing 
happens  that  is  not  rooted  in  coincidence.  All 
great  changes  find  their  cause  in  coincidence. 
Therefore  I  shall  not  mince  the  fact  that  the 
next  change  in  Denry's  career  was  due  to  an 
enormous  and  complicated  coincidence.  On  the 
following  morning  both  Mrs.  Codleyn  and  Denry 
were  late  for  service  at  St.  Luke's  Church — Mrs. 
Codleyn  by  accident  and  obesity,  Denry  by  de- 
sign. Denry  was  later  than  Mrs.  Codleyn,  whom 
he  discovered  waiting  in  the  porch.  That  Mrs. 
Codleyn  was  waiting  is  an  essential  part  of  the 
coincidence.  Now  Mrs.  Codleyn  would  not  have 
been  waiting  if  her  pew  had  not  been  right  at 
the  front  of  the  church,  near  the  chancel.  Nor 
would  slie  have  been  waiting  if  she  had  been 
a  thin  woman  and  not  given  to  breathing  loudly 
after  a  hurried  walk.  She  waited  partly  to  get 
her  breath,  and  partly  so  that  she  might  take 
advantage  of  a  hymn  or  a  psalm  to  gain  her 
seat  without  attracting  attention.  If  she  had 
not  been  late,  if  she  had  not  been  stout,  if  she 
had  not  had  a  seat  under  the  pulpit,  if  she  had 
not  had  an  objection  to  making  herself  con- 
spicuous, she  would  have  been  already  in  the 


I 


The  Widow  Hullins's  House       37 

church  and  Denry  would  not  have  had  a  private 
colloquy  with  her. 

"  Well,  you  're  nice  people,  I  must  say !  "  she 
observed,  as  he  raised  his  hat. 

She  meant  Duncalf  and  all  Duncalf  s  myrmi- 
dons. She  was  still  full  of  her  grievance.  The 
letter  which  she  had  received  that  morning  had 
startled  her.  And  even  the  shadow  of  the  sacred 
edifice  did  not  prevent  her  from  referring  to  an 
affair  that  was  more  suited  to  Monday  than  to 
Sunday  morning.  A  little  more,  and  she  would 
have  snorted. 

"  Nothing  to  do  with  me,  you  know !  "  Denry 
defended  himself. 

"  Oh !  "  she  said,  "  you  're  all  alike  and  I  '11 
tell  you  this,  Mr.  Machin,  I  'd  take  him  at  his 
word  if  it  was  n't  that  I  don't  know  who 
else  I  could  trust  to  collect  my  rents.  I  've 
heard  such  tales  about  rent-collectors.  ...  I 
reckon  I  shall  have  to  make  my  peace  with 
him." 

"  Why !  "  said  Denry.  "  I  '11  keep  on  collect- 
ing your  rents  for  you  if  you  like." 

"You?" 

"  I  've  given  him  notice  to  leave !  "  said  Denry. 
"  The  fact  is,  Mr.  Duncalf  and  I  don't  hit  it  off 
together." 

Another  procrastinator  arrived  in  the  porch, 
and,  by  a  singular  simultaneous  impulse,  Mrs. 
Codleyn  and  Denry  fell  into  the  silence  of  the 


38  Deniy  the  Audacious 

overheard  and  wandered  forth  together  among 
the  graves. 

There,  among  the  graves,  she  eyed  him.  He 
was  a  clerk  at  eighteen  shillings  a  week,  and  he 
looked  it.  His  mother  was  a  sempstress,  and 
he  looked  it.  The  idea  of  neat  but  shabby  Denry 
and  the  mighty  Duncalf  not  hitting  it  off  to- 
gether seemed  excessively  comic.  If  only  Denry 
could  have  worn  his  dress-suit  at  church !  It 
vexed  him  exceedingly  that  he  had  only  worn 
that  expensive  dress-suit  once,  and  saw  no 
faintest  hope  of  ever  being  able  to  wear  it 
again. 

"  And  what 's  more,"  Denry  pursued,  "  I  '11 
collect  'em  for  five  per  cent,  instead  of  seven 
and  a  half.  Give  me  a  free  hand  and  see  if  I 
don't  get  better  results  than  he  did.  And  I  '11 
settle  accounts  every  month,  or  week  if  you  like, 
instead  of  once  a  quarter,  like  he  does." 

The  bright  and  beautiful  idea  had  smitten 
Denry  like  some  heavenly  arrow.  It  went 
through  him  and  pierced  Mrs.  Codleyn  with 
equal  success.  It  was  an  idea  that  appealed 
to  the  reason,  to  the  pocket,  and  to  the  instinct 
of  revenge.  Having  revengefully  settled  the 
liash  of  Mr.  Duncalf,  they  went  into  church. 

No  need  to  continue  this  part  of  the  narrative ! 
Even  the  text  of  the  rector's  sermon  has  no 
bearing  on  the  issue. 

In  a  week  there  was  a  painted  board  affixed 


The  Widow  Hullins's  House        39 

to  the  door  of  Denry's  mother :  "  E.  H.  Machin, 
Rent  Collector,  and  Estate  Agent."  There  was 
also  an  inch  advertisement  in  the  Signal  an- 
nouncing that  Denry  managed  estates  large  or 
small. 


Ill 


The  next  crucial  event  in  Denry's  career  hap- 
pened one  Monday  morning,  in  a  cottage  that 
was  very  much  smaller  even  than  his  mother's. 
This  cottage,  part  of  Mrs.  Codleyn's  multitudi- 
nous property,  stood  by  itself  in  Chapel  Alley, 
behind  the  Wesleyan  Chapel;  the  majority  of 
the  tenements  were  in  Carpenter's  Square,  near 
to.  The  neighbourhood  was  not  distinguished  for 
its  social  splendour;  but  existence  in  it  was  pic- 
turesque, varied,  exciting,  full  of  accidents,  as 
existence  is  apt  to  be  in  residences  that  cost 
their  occupiers  an  average  of  three  shillings  a 
week.  Some  persons  referred  to  the  quarter  as 
a  slum,  and  ironically  insisted  on  its  adjacency 
to  the  Wesleyan  Chapel,  as  though  that  was  the 
Wesleyan  ChapeFs  fault.  Such  people  did  not 
understand  life  and  the  joy  thereof. 

The  solitary  cottage  had  a  front-yard,  about 
as  large  as  a  blanket,  surrounded  by  an  insecure 
brick  wall  and  paved  with  mud.  You  went  up 
two  steps,  pushed  at  a  door,  and  instantly  found 
yourself  in  the  principal  reception-room,  which 


40  Denry  the  Audacious 

no  earthly  blanket  could  possibly  have  covered. 
Behind  this  chamber  could  be  seen  obscurely  an 
apartment  so  tiny  that  an  auctioneer  would  have 
been  justified  in  terming  it  "  bijou,"  furnished 
simply  but  practically  with  a  slopstone;  also 
the  beginnings  of  a  stairway.  The  furniture  of 
the  reception-room  comprised  two  chairs  and  a 
table,  one  or  two  saucepans,  and  some  antique 
crockery.  What  lay  at  the  upper  end  of  the 
stairway  no  living  person  knew,  save  the  old 
woman,  who  slept  there.  The  old  woman  sat 
at  the  fire-place,  "  all  bunched  up,"  as  they  say 
in  the  Five  Towns.  The  only  fire  in  the  room, 
however,  was  in  the  short  clay  pipe  which  she 
smoked;  Mrs.  HuUins  was  one  of  the  last  old 
women  in  Bursley  to  smoke  a  cutty;  and  even 
then  the  pipe  was  considered  coarse,  and  cigar- 
ettes were  coming  into  fashion — though  not  in 
Chapel  Alley.  Mrs.  Hullins  smoked  her  pipe, 
and  thought  about  nothing  in  particular.  Occa- 
sionally some  vision  of  the  past  floated  through 
her  drowsy  brain.  She  had  lived  in  that  resi- 
dence for  over  forty  years.  She  had  brought  up 
eleven  children  and  two  husbands  there.  She 
had  coddled  thirty-five  grandchildren  there,  and 
given  instruction  to  some  half-dozen  daughters- 
in-law.  She  had  known  midnights  when  she 
could  scarcely  move  in  that  residence  without 
disturbing  somebody  asleep.  Now  she  was  alone 
in  it.     She  never  left  it,  except  to  fetch  water 


The  Widow  Hullins's  House       41 

from  the  pump  in  the  Square.  She  had  seen  a 
lot  of  life,  and  she  was  tired. 

Denry  came  unceremoniously  in,  smiling  gaily 
and  benevolently,  with  his  bright,  optimistic  face 
under  his  fair  brown  hair.  He  had  large  and 
good  teeth.  He  was  getting — not  stout,  but 
plump. 

"  Well,  mother !  "  he  greeted  Mrs.  Hullins,  and 
sat  down  on  the  other  chair. 

A  young  fellow  obviously  at  peace  with  the 
world,  a  young  fellow  content  with  himself  for 
the  moment !  No  longer  a  clerk ;  one  of  the  em- 
ployed; saying  "sir"  to  persons  with  no  more 
fingers  and  toes  than  he  had  himself;  bound  by 
servile  agreement  to  be  in  a  fixed  place  at  fixed 
hours!  An  independent  unit,  master  of  his  own 
time  and  his  own  movements!  In  brief,  a  man! 
The  truth  was  that  he  earned  now  in  two  days 
a  week  slightly  more  than  Mr.  Duncalf  paid 
him  for  the  labour  of  five  and  a  half  days.  His 
income,  as  collector  of  rents  and  manager  of 
estates  large  or  small,  totalled  about  a  pound  a 
week.  But  he  walked  forth  in  the  town,  smiled, 
poked,  spoke  vaguely,  and  said  "Do  you?''  to 
such  a  tune  that  his  income  might  have  been 
guessed  to  be  anything  from  ten  pounds  a  w^eek 
to  ten  thousand  a  year.  And  he  had  four  days 
a  week  in  which  to  excogitate  new  methods  of 
creating  a  fortune. 

"  I  've  nowt  for  ye!  "  said  the  old  woman,  not 
moving. 


42  Denry  the  Audacious 

"  Come,  come,  now !  That  won't  do !  "  said 
Denry.     "Have  a  pinch  of  my  tobacco!" 

She  accepted  a  pinch  of  his  tobacco,  and  re- 
filled her  pipe,  and  he  gave  her  a  match. 

"  I  'm  not  going  out  of  this  house  without 
half  a  crown  at  any  rate ! "  said  Denry  blithely. 

And  he  rolled  himself  a  cigarette,  possibly  to 
keep  warm.  It  was  very  chilly  in  the  stuffy 
residence,  but  the  old  woman  never  shivered. 
She  was  one  of  those  old  women  who  seem  to 
wear  all  the  skirts  of  all  their  lives,  one  over 
the  other. 

"  Ye  're  here  for  th'  better  part  o'  some  time, 
then,"  observed  Mrs.  Hullins,  looking  facts  in 
the  face.  "  I  've  told  ye  about  my  son  Jack. 
He  's  been  playing  [out  of  work]  six  weeks.  He 
starts  to-day,  and  he'll  gi'  me  summat  Satur- 
day." 

"  That  won't  do,"  said  Denry,  curtly  and 
kindly. 

He  then,  with  his  bluff  benevolence,  explained 
to  Mother  Hullins  that  Mrs.  Codleyn  would 
stand  no  further  increase  of  arrears,  from  any- 
body, that  she  could  not  afford  to  stand  any 
further  increase  of  arrears,  that  lier  tenants  were 
ruining  her,  and  that  he  himself,  with  all  his 
cheery  good  will  for  tlie  rent-paying  classes, 
would  be  involved  in  her  fall. 

"  Six  and  forty  years  have  I  been  i'  this  'ere 
house !  "  said  Mrs.  Hullins. 


The  Widow  Hullins's  House        43 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  said  Denry.  "  And  look  at 
what  you  owe,  mother !  " 

It  was  with  immense  good-humoured  kindli- 
ness that  he  invited  her  attention  to  what  she 
owed.     She  tacitly  declined  to  look  at  it. 

"  Your  children  ought  to  keep  you,"  said 
Denry,  upon  her  silence. 

"  Them  as  is  dead,  can't,"  said  Mrs.  Hullins, 
"  and  them  as  is  alive  has  their  own  to  keep, 
except  Jack." 

"  Well,  then,  it 's  bailiffs,"  said  Denry,  but 
still  cheerfully. 

"  Nay,  nay!     Ye  '11  none  turn  me  out." 

Denry  threw  up  his  hands,  as  if  to  exclaim: 
"  I  've  done  all  I  can,  and  I  've  given  you  a  pinch 
of  tobacco.  Besides,  you  ought  not  to  be  here 
alone.  You  ought  to  be  with  one  of  your 
children." 

There  was  more  conversation,  which  ended  in 
Denry  repeating,  with  sympathetic  resignation : 

"  No,  you  '11  have  to  get  out.     It 's  bailiffs." 

Immediately  afterwards  he  left  the  residence, 
with  a  bright  filial  smile.  And  then,  in  two 
minutes,  he  popped  his  cheerful  head  in  at  the 
door  again. 

"  Look  here,  mother,"  he  said,  "  I  '11  lend  you 
half  a  crown  if  you  like." 

Charity  beamed  on  his  face,  and  genuinely 
warmed  his  heart. 

"  But  you   must   pay   me  something  for   the 


44  Denry  the  Audacious 

accommodation,"  he  added.  "  I  can't  do  it  for 
nothing.  You  must  pay  me  back  next  week  and 
give  me  threepence.  That 's  fair.  I  could  n't 
bear  to  see  you  turned  out  of  your  house.  Now, 
get  your  rent-book." 

And  he  marked  half  a  crown  as  paid  in  her 
greasy,  dirty  rent-book,  and  the  same  in  his  large 
book. 

"  Eh,  you  're  a  queer  'un,  Mester  Machin !  " 
murmured  the  old  woman,  as  he  left.  He  never 
knew  precisely  what  she  meant.  Fifteen — 
twenty  years  later  in  his  career,  her  intonation 
of  that  phrase  would  recur  to  him  and  puzzle 
him. 

On  the  following  Monday  everybody  in  Chapel 
Alley  and  Carpenter's  Square  seemed  to  know 
that  the  inconvenience  of  bailiffs  and  eviction 
could  be  avoided  by  arrangement  with  Denry 
the  philanthropist.  He  did  quite  a  business. 
And  having  regard  to  the  fantastic  nature  of 
the  security,  he  could  not  well  charge  less  than 
threepence  a  week  for  half  a  crown.  That  was 
about  forty  per  cent,  a  month  and  five  hundred 
per  cent,  per  annum.  The  security  was  merely 
fantastic,  but  nevertheless,  he  had  his  remedy 
against  evil-doers.  He  would  take  what  they  paid 
him  for  rent  and  refuse  to  mark  it  as  rent,  ap- 
propriating it  to  his  loans;  so  that  the  fear  of 
bailiffs  was  upon  them  again.  Thus,  as  the  good 
genius  of  Chapel  Alley  and  Carpenter's  Square, 


The  Widow  Hullins's  House        45 

saving  the  distressed  from  the  rigours  of  the 
open  street,  rescuing  the  needy  from  their  tight- 
est corners,  keeping  many  a  home  together  when 
but  for  him  it  would  have  fallen  to  pieces,  always 
smiling,  jolly,  sympathetic,  and  picturesque, 
Denry  at  length  employed  the  five-pound  note 
won  from  Harold  Etches.  A  five-pound  note — 
especially  a  new  and  crisp  one,  as  this  was — is 
a  miraculous  fragment  of  matter,  wonderful  in 
the  pleasure  which  the  sight  of  it  gives  even  to 
millionaires;  but  perhaps  no  five-pound  note 
was  ever  so  miraculous  as  Denry's.  Ten  per 
cent,  per  week,  compound  interest,  mounts  up; 
it  ascends;  and  it  lifts.  Denry  never  talked 
precisely.  But  the  town  soon  began  to  compre- 
hend that  he  was  a  rising  man,  a  man  to  watch. 
The  town  admitted  that,  so  far,  he  had  lived 
up  to  his  reputation  as  a  dancer  with  countesses. 
The  town  felt  that  there  was  something  indefin- 
able about  Denry. 

Denry  himself  felt  this.  He  did  not  consider 
himself  clever,  nor  brilliant.  But  he  considered 
himself  peculiarly  gifted.  He  considered  him- 
self different  from  other  men.  His  thoughts 
would  run : 

"  Anybody  but  me  would  have  knuckled  down 
to  Duncalf  and  remained  a  shorthand  clerk  for 
evermore." 

"  Who  but  me  would  have  had  the  idea  of 
going  to  the  ball  and  asking  the  Countess  to 


46  Denry  the  Audacious 

dance?  .  .  .  And  then  that  business  with  the 
fan ! " 

"  Who  but  me  would  have  had  the  idea  of 
taking  his  rent-collecting  off  Duncalf  ?  " 

"  Who  but  me  would  have  had  the  idea  of 
combining  these  loans  with  the  rent-collecting. 
It's  simple  enough!  It's  just  what  they  want! 
And  yet  nobody  ever  thought  of  it  till  I  thought 
of  it!" 

And  he  knew  of  a  surety  that  he  was  that 
most  admired  type  in  the  bustling,  industrial 
provinces — a  card. 


IV 


The  desire  to  become  a  member  of  the  Sports 
Club  revived  in  his  breast.  And  yet,  celebrity 
though  he  was,  rising  though  he  was,  he  secretly 
regarded  the  Sports  Club  at  Hillport  as  being 
really  a  bit  above  him.  The  Sports  Club  was 
the  latest  and  greatest  phenomenon  of  social  life 
in  Bursley,  and  it  was  emphatically  the  club  to 
which  it  behoved  the  golden  youth  of  the  town 
to  belong.  To  Denry's  generation  the  Conser- 
vative Club  and  the  Liberal  Club  did  not  seem 
like  real  clubs;  they  were  machinery  for  poli- 
tics, and  membership  carried  nearly  no  distinc- 
tion with  it.  But  the  Sports  Club  had  been 
founded  by  the  most  dashing  young  men  of  Hill- 
port,  which  is  the  most  aristocratic  suburb  of 


The  Widow  Hullins's  House       47 

Bursley  and  set  on  a  lofty  eminence.  The  sons 
of  the  wealthiest  earthenware  manufacturers 
made  a  point  of  belonging  to  it,  and,  after  a 
period  of  disdain,  their  fathers  also  made  a  point 
of  belonging  to  it.  It  was  housed  in  an  old 
mansion  with  extensive  grounds  and  a  pond  and 
tennis  courts;  it  had  a  working  agreement  with 
the  Golf  Club  and  with  the  Hillport  Cricket 
Club.  But  chiefly  it  was  a  social  affair.  The 
correctest  thing  was  to  be  seen  there  at  nights, 
rather  late  than  early;  and  an  exact  knowledge 
of  card  games  and  billiards  was  worth  more  in 
it  than  prowess  on  the  field. 

It  was  a  club  in  the  Pall  Mall  sense  of  the 
word. 

And  Denry  still  lived  in  insignificant  Brough- 
am Street,  and  his  mother  was  still  a  semp- 
stress! These  were  apparently  insurmountable 
truths.  All  the  men  whom  he  knew  to  be  mem- 
bers were  somehow  more  dashing  than  Denry — 
and  it  was  a  question  of  dash;  few  things  are 
more  mysterious  than  dash.  Denry  was  unique, 
knew  himself  to  be  unique;  he  had  danced  with 
a  Countess;  and  yet  .  .  .  those  other  fellows! 
.  .  .  Yes  there  are  puzzles,  baffling  puzzles,  in 
the  social  career. 

In  going  over  on  Tuesdays  to  Hanbridge, 
where  he  had  a  few  trifling  rents  to  collect, 
Denry  often  encountered  Harold  Etches  in  the 
tram-car.     At  that  time  Etches  lived  at  Hillport, 


48  Denry  the  Audacious 

and  the  principal  Etches  manufactory  was  at 
Hanbridge.  Etches  partook  of  the  riches  of  his 
family  and,  though  a  bachelor,  was  reputed  to 
have  the  spending  of  at  least  a  thousand  a  year. 
He  was  famous,  on  summer  Sundays,  on  the  pier 
at  Llandudno,  in  white  flannels.  He  had  been 
one  of  the  originators  of  the  Sports  Club.  He 
spent  far  more  on  clothes  alone  than  Denry  spent 
in  the  entire  enterprise  of  keeping  his  soul  in  his 
body.  At  their  first  meetings  little  was  said. 
They  were  not  equals  and  nothing  but  dress- 
suits  could  make  them  equals.  However,  even 
a  king  could  not  refuse  speech  with  a  scullion 
whom  he  had  allowed  to  win  money  from  him. 
And  Etches  and  Denry  chatted  feebly.  Bit  by 
bit  they  chatted  less  feebly.  And  once,  when 
they  were  almost  alone  in  the  car,  they  chatted 
with  vehemence  during  the  complete  journey  of 
twenty  minutes. 

"  He  is  n't  so  bad,"  said  Denry  to  himself,  of 
the  dashing  Harold  Etches. 

And  he  took  a  private  oath  that  at  his  very 
next  encounter  with  Etches  he  would  mention 
the  Sports  Club — "just  to  see."  This  oath  dis- 
turbed his  sleep  for  several  nights.  But  with 
Denry  an  oath  was  sacred.  Having  sworn  that 
he  would  mention  the  Club  to  Etches,  he  was 
bound  to  mention  it.  When  Tuesday  came  he 
hoped  that  Etches  would  not  be  on  the  tram,  and 
the  coward  in  him  would  have  walked  to  Han- 


The  Widow  Hullins's  House        49 

bridge  instead  of  taking  the  tram.  But  he  was 
brave.  And  he  boarded  the  tram.  And  Etches 
was  already  in  it.  Now  that  he  looked  at  it 
close,  the  enterprise  of  suggesting  to  Harold 
Etches  that  he,  Denry,  would  be  a  suitable  mem- 
ber of  the  Sports  Club  at  Hillport  seemed  in  the 
highest  degree  preposterous.  Why!  He  could 
not  play  at  any  games  at  all!  He  was  a  figure 
only  in  the  streets!     Nevertheless — the  oath! 

He  sat  awkwardly  silent  for  a  few  moments, 
wondering  how  to  begin,  and  determined  to  get 
it  over.  And  then  Harold  Etches  leaned  across 
the  tram  to  him  and  said: 

"  I  say,  Machin.  I  've  several  times  meant  to 
ask  you.  Why  don't  you  put  up  for  the  Sports 
Club?     It's  really  very  good,  you  know." 

Denry  blushed.  Quite  probably  for  the  last 
time  in  his  life.  And  he  saw  with  fresh  clear- 
ness how  great  he  was,  and  how  large  he  must 
loom  in  the  life  of  tlie  town.  He  perceived  that 
he  had  been  too  modest. 


You  could  not  be  elected  to  the  Sports  Club 
all  in  a  minute.  There  were  formalities;  and 
that  these  formalities  were  complicated  and  took 
time  is  simply  a  proof  that  the  Club  was  cor- 
rectly exclusive,  and  worth  belonging  to.    When 

at  length  Denry  received  notice  from  the  "  Sec- 

4 


50  Denry  the  Audacious 

retary  and  Steward  "  that  he  was  elected  to  the 
most  sparkling  fellowship  in  the  Five  Towns, 
he  was,  positively,  afraid  to  go  and  visit  the 
Club.  He  wanted  some  old  and  experienced 
member  to  lead  him  gently  into  the  Club  and 
explain  its  usages  and  introduce  him  to  the  chief 
habitues.  Or  else  he  wanted  to  slip  in  unob- 
served while  the  heads  of  clubmen  were  turned. 
And  then  he  had  a  distressing  shock.  Mrs.  Cod- 
leyn  took  it  into  her  head  that  she  must  sell 
her  cottage  property.  Now  Mrs.  Codleyn's  cot- 
tage property  w^as  the  backbone  of  Denry's  liveli- 
hood; and  he  could  by  no  means  be  sure  that 
a  new  owner  would  employ  him  as  rent-collector. 
A  new  owner  might  have  the  absurd  notion  of 
collecting  rents  in  person.  Vainly  did  Denry 
exhibit  to  Mrs.  Codleyn  rows  of  figures  showing 
that  her  income  from  the  property  had  increased 
under  his  control.  Vainly  did  he  assert  that 
from  no  other  form  of  investment  would  she  de- 
rive such  a  handsome  interest.  She  went  so 
far  as  to  consult  an  auctioneer.  The  auction- 
eer's idea  of  what  would  constitute  a  fair  reserve 
price  shook,  but  did  not  quite  overthrow,  her. 
At  this  crisis  it  was  that  Denry  happened  to 
say  to  her,  in  his  new  large  manner :  "  Why ! 
if  I  could  afford,  I  'd  buy  the  property  off  you 
myself,  just  to  show  you  .  .  .!"  (He  did  not 
explain,  to  show  lier,  and  he  did  not  perliaps 
know  himself,  what  liad  to  be  shown.)     She  an- 


The  Widow  Hullins's  House        51 

swered  that  she  wished  to  goodness  he  would! 
Then  he  said  wildly  that  he  would,  in  instal- 
ments! And  he  actually  did  buy  the  Widow 
Hullins's  half-a-crown-a-week  cottage  for  £45,  of 
which  he  paid  £30  in  cash  and  arranged  that 
the  balance  should  be  deducted  gradually  from 
his  weekly  commission.  He  chose  the  Widow 
Hullins's  because  it  stood  by  itself — an  old  piece, 
as  it  were,  chipped  off  from  the  block  of 
Mrs.  Codleyn's  realty.  The  transaction  quieted 
Mrs.  Codleyn.  And  Denry  felt  secure  because 
she  could  not  now  dispense  with  his  services 
without  losing  her  security  for  £15.  (He  still 
thought  in  these  small  sums  instead  of  thinking 
in  thousands.) 

He  was  now  a  property  owner. 

Encouraged  by  this  great  and  solemn  fact,  he 
went  up  one  afternoon  to  tlie  Club  at  Hillport. 
His  entry  was  magnificent,  superficially.  No  one 
suspected  that  he  was  nervous  under  the  ordeal. 
The  truth  is  that  no  one  suspected  because  the 
place  was  empty.  The  emptiness  of  the  hall  gave 
him  pause.  He  saw  a  large  framed  copy  of 
the  "  Rules  "  hanging  under  a  deer's  head,  and 
he  read  them  as  carefully  as  though  he  had  not 
got  a  copy  in  his  pocket.  Then  he  read  the 
Notices,  as  though  they  had  been  latest  tele- 
grams from  some  dire  seat  of  war.  Then,  perceiv- 
ing a  massive  open  door  of  oak  (the  club-house 
had  once  been   a   pretty   stately   mansion),   he 


52  Denry  the  Audacious 

passed  through  it,  and  saw  a  bar  (with  bot- 
tles) and  a  number  of  small  tables  and  wicker 
chairs,  and  on  one  of  the  tables  an  example  of 
the  8ta jf or d shire  Signal  displaying  in  vast  let- 
ters the  fearful  question  :  "  Is  your  skin  trouble- 
some? "  Denry's  skin  was  troublesome ;  it  crept. 
He  crossed  the  hall  and  went  into  another  room 
which  was  placarded  "  Silence."  And  silence 
was.  And  on  a  table,  with  copies  of  The  Potter's 
World,  The  British  Australasian,  The  Iron  Trades 
Review,  and  the  Golfer's  Annual,  was  a  second 
copy  of  the  Signal  again  demanding  of  Denry 
in  vast  letters  whether  his  skin  was  troublesome. 
Evidently  the  reading-room. 

He  ascended  the  stairs  and  discovered  a  de- 
serted billiard-room  with  two  tables.  Though 
he  had  never  played  at  billiards  he  seized  a  cue, 
but  when  he  touched  them  the  balls  gave  such 
a  resounding  click  in  the  hush  of  the  chamber 
that  he  put  the  cue  away  instantly.  He  noticed 
another  door,  curiously  opened  it,  and  started 
back  at  the  sight  of  a  small  room  and  eight 
middle-aged  men,  mostly  hatted,  playing  cards 
in  two  groups.  They  had  the  air  of  conspirators, 
but  they  were  merely  some  of  the  finest  solo- 
whist  players  in  Bursley.  (This  was  before 
Bridge  had  quitted  Pall  Mall.)  Among  them 
was  Mr.  Duncalf.  Denry  shut  the  door  quickly. 
He  felt  like  a  wanderer  in  an  enchanted  castle 
who  had  suddenly  come  across  something  that 


The  Widow  Hullins's  House        53 

ought  not  to  be  come  across.  He  returned  to 
earth,  and  in  the  hall  met  a  man  in  shirt-sleeves 
— the  Secretary  and  Steward,  a  nice  homely  man 
who  said,  in  the  accents  of  ancient  friendship, 
though  he  had  never  spoken  to  Denry  before: 
"  Is  it  Mr.  Machin?  Glad  to  see  you  Mr.  Ma- 
chin  !  Come  and  have  a  drink  with  me,  will 
you?  Give  it  a  name."  Saying  which,  the  Sec- 
retary and  Steward  went  behind  the  bar,  and 
Denry  inbibed  a  little  whiskey  and  much  in- 
formation concerning  the  Club. 

"  Anyhow,   I  've   been! "   he   said   to   himself 
going  home. 


VI 


The  next  night  he  made  another  visit  to  the 
Club,  about  ten  o'clock.  The  reading-room,  that 
haunt  of  learning,  was  as  empty  as  ever;  but 
the  bar  was  full  of  men,  smoke,  and  glasses.  It 
was  so  full  that  Denry's  arrival  was  scarcely 
observed.  However,  the  Secretary  and  Steward 
observed  him,  and  soon  he  was  chatting  with  a 
group  at  the  bar,  presided  over  by  the  Secretary 
and  Steward's  shirt-sleeves.  He  glanced  around, 
and  was  satisfied.  It  was  a  scene  of  dashing 
gaiety  and  worldliness  that  did  not  belie  the 
Club's  reputation.  Some  of  the  most  important 
men  in  Bursley  were  there.  Charles  Fearns,  the 
solicitor  who  practised  at  Hanbridge,  was  argu- 


54  Denry  the  Audacious 

ing  vivaciously  in  a  corner.  Fearns  lived  at 
Bleakridge  and  belonged  to  the  Bleakridge  Club, 
and  his  presence  at  Hillport  (two  miles  from 
Bleakridge)  Avas  a  dramatic  tribute  to  the 
prestige  of  Hillport's  Club. 

Fearns  was  apparently  in  one  of  his  anarchis- 
tic moods.  Though  a  successful  business  man, 
who  voted  right,  he  was  pleased  occasionally  to 
uproot  the  fabric  of  society  and  rebuild  it  on  a 
new  plan  of  his  own.  To-night  he  was  inveigh- 
ing against  landlords — he  who  by  "  convey- 
ancing "  kept  a  wife  and  family,  and  a  French 
governess  for  the  family,  in  rather  more  than 
comfort.  The  Fearnses'  French  governess  was 
one  of  the  seven  w^onders  of  the  Five  Towns. 
Men  enjoyed  him  in  these  moods;  and  as  he 
raised  his  voice,  so  he  enlarged  the  circle  of  his 
audience. 

"  If  the  bye-laws  of  this  town  were  worth  a 
bilberry,"  he  was  saying,  "  about  a  thousand  so- 
called  houses  would  have  to  come  down  to- 
morrow. Now  there 's  that  old  woman  I  was 
talking  about  just  now — Hullins.  She  's  a  Cath- 
olic— and  my  governess  is  always  slumming 
about  among  Catholics — that 's  how  I  know\ 
She  's  paid  lialf  a  crown  a  week  for  pretty  near 
half  a  Century  for  a  hovel  that  isn't  worth 
eighteen  pence,  and  now  she's  going  to  be 
pitched  into  the  street  because  she  can't  pay 
any  more.     And  she's  seventy  if  she's  a  day! 


The  Widow  Hullins's  House        55 

And  that 's  the  basis  of  society.     Nice,  refined 
society,  eh?  " 

"  Who 's  the  grasping  owner? "  some  one 
asked. 

"  Old  Mrs.  Codleyn,"  said  Fearns. 

"  Here,  Mr.  Machin,  they  're  talking  about 
you,"  said  the  Secretary  and  Steward  genially. 
He  knew  that  Denry  collected  Mrs.  Codleyn's 
rents. 

"  Mrs.  Codleyn  is  n't  the  owner,"  Denry  called 
out  across  the  room,  almost  before  he  was  aware 
what  he  was  doing.  There  was  a  smile  on  his 
face  and  a  glass  in  his  hand. 

"  Oh !  "  said  Fearns.  "  I  thought  she  was. 
Who  is?" 

Everybody  looked  inquisitively  at  the  re- 
nowned Machin,  the  new  member. 

"  I  am,"  said  Denry. 

He  had  concealed  the  change  of  ownership 
from  the  Widow  HuUins.  In  his  quality  of 
owner  he  could  not  have  lent  her  money  in  order 
that  she  might  pay  it  instantly  back  to  himself. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  Fearns,  with  polite 
sincerity.  "I'd  no  idea!  .  .  ."  He  saw  that 
unwittingly  he  had  come  near  to  committing  a 
gross  outrage  on  club  etiquette. 

"  Not  at  all !  "  said  Denry.  "  But  supposing 
the  cottage  was  yours,  what  should  you  do,  Mr. 
Fearns?  Before  I  bought  the  property  I  used 
to  lend  her  money  myself  to  pay  her  rent." 


$6  Denry  the  Audacious 

"  I  know,"  Fearns  answered  with  a  certain 
dryness  of  tone. 

It  occurred  to  Denry  that  the  lawyer  knew  too 
much. 

"  Well,  what  should  you  do? "  he  repeated 
obstinately. 

"  She 's  an  old  woman,"  said  Fearns.  "  And 
honest  enougli,  you  must  admit.  She  came  up 
to  see  my  governess,  and  I  happened  to  see  her." 

"  But  what  should  you  do  in  my  place?"  Denry 
insisted. 

"  Since  you  ask,  I  should  lower  the  rent,  and 
let  her  off  the  arrears,"  said  Fearns. 

"And  supposing  she  didn't  pay  then?  Let 
her  have  it  rent  free,  because  she's  seventy? 
Or  pitch  her  into  the  streets?  " 

"  Oh—  Well " 

"  Fearns  would  make  her  a  present  of  the 
blooming  house  and  give  her  a  conveyance  free!  " 
a  voice  said  humorously,  and  everybody  laughed. 

"  Well,  that 's  what  I  '11  do,"  said  Denry.  "  If 
Mr.  Fearns  will  do  the  conveyance  free,  I  'II 
make  her  a  present  of  the  blooming  house. 
That 's  the  sort  of  grasping  owner  I  am." 

There  was  a  startled  pause.  "  I  mean  it,"  said 
Denry  firmly,  even  fiercely,  and  raised  his  glass. 
"  Here 's  to  the  Widow  Hullins!  " 

There  was  a  sensation,  because,  incredible  al- 
though the  thing  was,  it  had  to  be  believed. 
Denry  himself  was  not  the  least  astounded  per- 


The  Widow  Hullins's  House        57 

son  in  the  crowded  smoky  room.  To  him,  it 
had  been  like  somebody  else  talking,  not  himself. 
But,  as  always  when  he  did  something  crucial, 
spectacular,  and  effective,  the  deed  had  seemed 
to  be  done  by  a  mysterious  power  within  him, 
over  which  he  had  no  control. 

This  particular  deed  was  quixotic,  enormously 
unusual;  a  deed  assuredly  without  precedent  in 
the  annals  of  the  Five  Towns.  And  he,  Denry, 
had  done  it.  The  cost  was  prodigious,  ridic- 
ulously and  dangerously  beyond  his  means.  He 
could  find  no  rational  excuse  for  the  deed.  But 
he  had  done  it.  And  men  again  wondered.  Men 
had  wondered  when  he  led  the  Countess  out  to 
waltz.  That  was  nothing  to  this.  What!  A 
smooth-chinned  youth  giving  houses  away — out 
of  mere,  mad,  impulsive  generosity! 

And  men  said,  on  reflection :  "  Of  course 
that 's  just  the  sort  of  thing  Machin  would  do! " 
They  appeared  to  find  a  logical  connection  be- 
tween dancing  with  a  Countess,  and  tossing  a 
house  or  so  to  a  poor  widow.  And  the  next 
morning  every  man  w^ho  had  been  in  the  Sports 
Club  that  night  was  remarking  eagerly  to  his 
friends :  "  I  say,  have  you  heard  young  Machin's 
latest?  " 

And  Denry,  inwardly  aghast  at  his  own  rash- 
ness, was  saying  to  liimself:  "Well,  no  one 
but  me  would  ever  have  done  that!  " 

He  was  now  not  simply  a  card;  he  was  the 
card. 


CHAPTER  III.     THE  PANTECHNICON 


"  How  do  you  do,  Miss  Earp?  "  said  Denrj, 
in  a  worldly  manner  which  he  had  acquired  for 
himself  by  taking  the  most  effective  features  of 
the  manners  of  several  prominent  citizens,  and 
piecing  them  together  so  that  as  a  whole  they 
formed  Denry's  manner. 

"Oh!  How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Machin?"  said 
Ruth  Earp,  who  had  opened  her  door  to  him 
at  the  corner  of  Tudor  Passage  and  St.  Luke's 
Square. 

It  was  an  afternoon  in  July.  Denry  wore  a 
new  summer  suit,  whose  pattern  indicated  not 
only  present  prosperity  but  the  firm  belief  that 
prosperity  would  continue.  As  for  Ruth,  that 
plain  but  piquant  girl  was  in  one  of  her  simpler 
costumes ;  blue  linen ;  no  jewelry.  Her  hair 
was  in  its  usual  calculated  disorder;  its  outer 
fleeces  held  the  light.  She  was  now  at  least 
twenty-five,  and  her  gaze  disconcertingly  com- 
bined extreme  maturity  with  extreme  candour. 
At  one  moment  a  man  would  be  saying  to 
himself :     "  This  woman  knows  more  of  the  se- 

58 


The  Pantechnicon  59 

crets  of  human  nature  than  I  can  ever  know." 
And  the  next  he  would  be  saying  to  himself: 
"  What  a  simple  little  thing  she  is !  ■■  The  career 
of  nearly  every  man  is  marked  at  the  sharp 
corners  with  such  women.  Speaking  generally, 
Kuth  Earp's  demeanour  was  hard  and  challeng- 
ing. It  was  evident  that  she  could  not  be  subject 
to  the  common  weaknesses  of  her  sex.  Denry 
was  glad.  A  youth  of  quick  intelligence,  he  had 
perceived  all  the  dangers  of  the  mission  upon 
which  he  was  engaged,  and  had  planned  his 
precautions. 

"  May  I  come  in  a  minute?  "  he  asked  in  a 
purely  business  tone.  There  was  no  hint  in  that 
tone  of  the  fact  that  once  she  had  accorded  him 
a  supper-dance. 

"  Please  do,"  said  Ruth. 

An  agreeable  flouncing  swish  of  linen  skirts 
as  she  turned  to  precede  him  down  the  passage  I 
But  he  ignored  it.  That  is  to  say,  he  easily 
steeled  himself  against  it. 

She  led  him  to  the  large  room  which  served 
as  her  dancing  academy,  the  bare-boarded  place 
in  which,  a  year  and  a  half  before,  she  had 
tauglit  liis  clumsy  limbs  the  principles  of  grace 
and  rhythm.  She  occupied  the  back  part  of  a 
building  of  which  the  front  part  was  an  empty 
shop.  The  shop  had  been  tenanted  by  her 
father,  one  of  whose  frequent  bankruptcies  had 
happened  there;  after  which  his  stock  of  the 


6o  Denry  the  Audacious 

latest  novelties  in  inexpensive  furniture  had 
been  seized  by  rapacious  creditors,  and  Mr.  Earp 
had  migrated  to  Birmingham,  where  he  was 
courting  the  Official  Keceiver  anew.  Ruth  had 
remained,  solitary  and  unprotected,  with  a  con- 
siderable amount  of  household  goods  which  had 
been  her  mother's.  (Like  all  professional  bank- 
rupts, Mr.  Earp  had  invariably  had  belongings 
which,  as  he  could  prove  to  his  creditors,  did 
not  belong  to  him.)  Public  opinion  had  justi- 
fied Ruth  in  her  enterprise  of  staying  in  Burs- 
ley  on  her  own  responsibility  and  renting  part 
of  the  building,  in  order  not  to  lose  her  "  con- 
nection "  as  a  dancing-mistress.  Public  opinion 
said  that  "  there  would  have  been  no  sense  in 
her  going  dangling  after  her  wastrel  of  a  father." 

"  Quite  a  long  time  since  we  saw  anything  of 
each  other,"  observed  Ruth  in  rather  a  pleasant 
style,  as  she  sat  down  and  as  he  sat  down. 

It  was.  The  intimate  ecstasy  of  the  supper- 
dance  had  never  been  repeated.  Denry's  exceed- 
ing industry  in  carving  out  his  career,  and  his 
desire  to  graduate  as  an  accomplished  clubman, 
had  prevented  him  from  giving  to  his  heart  that 
attention  which  it  deserved,  having  regard  to 
his  tender  years. 

"Yes,  it  is,  isn't  it?"  said  Denry. 

Then  there  was  a  pause,  and  they  both  glanced 
vaguely  about  the  inhospitable  and  very  wooden 
room.     Now  was  the  moment  for  Denry  to  carry 


The  Pantechnicon  61 

out  his  pre-arranged  plan  in  all  its  savage 
simplicity.     He  did  so. 

"  I  've  called  about  the  rent,  Miss  Earp,"  he 
said;  and  by  an  effort  looked  her  in  the  eyes. 

"  The  rent?  "  exclaimed  Ruth,  as  though  she 
had  never  in  all  her  life  heard  of  such  a  thing 
as  rent;  as  though  June  24th  (recently  past) 
was  an  ordinary  day  like  any  other  day. 

"  Yes,"  said  Denry. 

"  What  rent? "  asked  Ruth,  as  though  for 
aught  she  guessed  it  might  have  been  the  rent 
of  Buckingham  Palace  that  he  had  called  about. 

"  Yours,"  said  Denry. 

"  Mine !  "  she  murmured.  "  But  what  has  my 
rent  got  to  do  with  you?  "  she  demanded.  And 
it  was  just  as  if  she  had  said :  "  But  what  has 
my  rent  got  to  do  with  you,  little  boy?  " 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  I  suppose  you  know  I  'm  a 
rent-collector?  " 

"  No,  I  did  n't,"  she  said. 

He  thought  she  was  fibbing  out  of  sheer 
naughtiness.  But  she  was  not.  She  did  not 
know  that  he  collected  rents.  She  knew  that  he 
was  a  card,  a  figure,  a  celebrity;  and  that  was 
all.  It  is  strange  how  the  knowledge  of  even 
the  cleverest  woman  will  confine  itself  to  certain 
fields. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  always  in  a  cold,  commercial 
tone,  "  I  collect  rents." 

"  I  should  have  thought  you  'd  have  preferred 


62  Denry  the  Audacious 

postage  stamps,"  she  said,  gazing  out  of  the 
window  at  a  kiln  that  was  blackening  all  the 
sky. 

If  he  could  have  invented  something  clever 
and  cutting  in  response  to  this  sally  he  might 
have  made  the  mistake  of  quitting  his  role  of 
hard,  unsentimental  man  of  business.  But  he 
could  think  of  nothing.    So  he  proceeded  sternly : 

"  Mr.  Herbert  Calvert  has  put  all  his  prop- 
erty into  my  hands,  and  he  has  given  me  strict 
instructions  that  no  rent  is  to  be  allowed  to 
remain  in  arrear." 

No  answer  from  Ruth.  Mr.  Calvert  was  a 
little  fellow  of  fifty  who  had  made  money  in  the 
mysterious  calling  of  a  "  commission  agent." 
By  reputation  he  was,  really,  very  much  harder 
than  Denry  could  even  pretend  to  be;  and  in- 
deed Denry  had  been  considerably  startled  by 
the  advent  of  such  a  client.  Surely  if  any  man 
in  Bursley  were  capable  of  unmercifully  collect- 
ing rents  on  his  own  account,  Herbert  Calvert 
must  be  that  man ! 

"  Let  me  see,"  said  Denry  further,  pulling  a 
book  from  his  pocket  and  peering  into  it,  "you 
owe  five  quarters'  rent,  £30." 

He  knew  without  the  book  precisely  what 
Ruth  owed,  but  the  book  kept  him  in  counte- 
nance, supplied  him  with  needed  moral  support. 

Ruth  Earp,  without  the  least  warning,  ex- 
ploded into  a  long  peal  of  gay  laughter.     Her 


The  Pantechnicon  63 

laugh  was  far  prettier  than  her  face.  She 
laughed  well.  She  might,  with  advantage  to 
Bursley,  have  given  lessons  in  laughing  as  well 
as  in  dancing;  for  Bursley  laughs  without  grace. 
Her  laughter  was  a  proof  that  she  had  not  a 
care  in  the  world,  and  that  the  world  for  her 
was  naught  but  a  source  of  light  amusement. 

Denry  smiled  guardedly. 

"  Of  course  with  me  it 's  purely  a  matter  of 
business,"  said  he. 

"  So  that 's  what  Mr.  Herbert  Calvert  has 
done!"  she  exclaimed,  amid  the  embers  of  her 
mirth.  "  I  wondered  what  he  would  do !  I  pre- 
sume you  know  all  about  Mr.  Herbert  Calvert," 
she  added. 

"  No,"  said  Denry.  "  I  don't  know  anything 
about  him,  except  that  he  owns  some  property 
and  I  'm  in  charge  of  it.  Stay,"  he  corrected 
himself,  "  I  think  I  do  remember  crossing  his 
name  off  your  programme  once." 

And  he  said  to  himself:  "  That 's  one  for  her. 
If  she  likes  to  be  so  desperately  funny  about 
postage  stamps,  I  don't  see  why  I  should  n't  have 
my  turn."  The  recollection  that  it  was  pre- 
cisely Herbert  Calvert  whom  he  had  supplanted 
in  the  supper-dance  at  the  Countess  of  Chell's 
historic  ball,  somehow  increased  his  confidence 
in  his  ability  to  manage  the  interview  with 
brilliance. 

Ruth's    voice    grew    severe    and    chilly.      It 


64  Denry  the  Audacious 

seemed  incredible  that  she  had  Just  been  laugh- 
ing. 

"  I  will  tell  you  about  Mr.  Herbert  Calvert." 
She  enunciated  her  words  with  slow,  stern  clear- 
ness. "  Mr.  Herbert  Calvert  took  advantage  of 
his  visits  here  for  his  rent,  to  pay  his  attentions 
to  me.  At  one  time  he  was  so  far — well — gone, 
that  he  would  scarcely  take  his  rent." 

"  Really !  "  murmured  Denry,  genuinely  stag- 
gered by  this  symptom  of  the  distance  to  which 
Mr.  Herbert  Calvert  was  once  "  gone." 

"  Yes,"  said  Ruth,  still  sternly  and  inimically. 
"  Naturally  a  woman  can't  make  up  her  mind 
about  these  things  all  of  a  sudden,"  she  con- 
tinued.    "Naturally!"  she  repeated. 

"  Of  course,"  Denry  agreed,  perceiving  that 
his  experience  of  life  and  deep  knowledge  of 
human  nature  were  being  appealed  to. 

"  And  when  I  did  decide  definitely,  Mr.  Her- 
bert Calvert  did  not  behave  like  a  gentleman. 
He  forgot  what  was  due  to  himself  and  to  me. 
I  won't  describe  to  you  the  scene  he  made.  I  'm 
simply  telling  you  this  so  that  you  may  know. 
To  cut  a  long  story  short,  he  behaved  in  a  very 
vulgar  way.  And  a  woman  does  n't  forget  these 
things,  Mr.  Machin."  Her  eyes  threatened  him. 
"  I  decided  to  punish  Mr.  Herbert  Calvert.  I 
thought  if  he  would  n't  take  his  rent  before — 
well,  let  him  wait  for  it  now!  I  might  have 
given  him  notice  to  leave.      But  I  did  n't.      I 


The  Pantechnicon  65 

did  n't  see  why  I  should  let  myself  be  upset  be- 
cause Mr.  Herbert  Calvert  had  forgotten  that 
he  was  a  gentleman.  I  said,  Let  him  wait  for 
his  rent,  and  I  promised  myself  I  would  just  see 
what  he  would  dare  to  do." 

"  I  don't  quite  follow  your  argument,"  Denry 
put  in. 

"  Perhaps  you  don't,"  she  silenced  him.  "  I 
did  n't  expect  you  would.  You  and  Mr.  Herbert 
Calvert!  ...  So  he  didn't  dare  to  do  anything 
himself,  and  he  is  paying  you  to  do  his  dirty 
work  for  him!  Very  well!  Very  well!  .  .  ." 
She  lifted  her  head  defiantly.  "  What  will  hap- 
pen if  I  don't  pay  the  rent?  " 

"  I  shall  have  to  let  things  take  their  course," 
said  Denry  with  a  genial  smile. 

"  All  right,  then,"  Ruth  Earp  responded.  "  If 
you  choose  to  mix  yourself  up  with  people  like 
Mr.  Herbert  Calvert,  you  must  take  the  con- 
sequences!    It's  all  the  same  to  me,  after  all." 

"  Then  it  is  n't  convenient  for  you  to  pay  any- 
thing on  account?  "  said  Denry,  more  and  more 
affable. 

"Convenient!"  she  cried.  "It's  perfectly 
convenient,  only  I  don't  care  to.  I  won't  pay 
a  penny  until  I  am  forced.  Let  Mr.  Herbert 
Calvert  do  his  worst,  and  then  I  '11  pay.  And 
not  before!  And  the  whole  town  shall  hear  all 
about  Mr.  Herbert  Calvert !  " 

"  I  see !  "  he  laughed  easily. 
5 


66  Denry  the  Audacious 

"Convenient!"  slie  reiterated,  contemptu- 
ously. "  I  think  everybody  in  Bursley  knows 
how  my  clientele  gets  larger  and  larger  every 
year!  .  .  .     Convenient!" 

"  So  that 's  final,  Miss  Earp?  " 

"  Perfectly,"  said  Miss  Earp. 

He  rose.  "  Then  the  simplest  thing  will  be 
for  me  to  send  round  a  bailiff  to-morrow  morn- 
ing, early."  He  might  have  been  saying :  "  The 
simplest  thing  will  be  for  me  to  send  round  a 
bunch  of  orchids." 

Another  man  would  have  felt  emotion,  and 
probably  expressed  it.  But  not  Denry,  the  rent- 
collector  and  manager  of  estates  large  and  small. 
There  were  several  different  men  in  Denry,  but 
he  had  the  great  gift  of  not  mixing  up  two  dif- 
ferent Denrys  wiien  he  found  himself  in  a  com- 
plicated situation. 

Ruth  Earp  rose  also.  She  dropped  her  eye- 
lids and  looked  at  him  from  under  them.  And 
then  she  gradually  smiled. 

"  I  thought  I  'd  just  see  what  you  'd  do,"  she 
said  in  a  low  confidential  voice  from  which 
all  trace  of  hostility  had  suddenly  departed. 
"  You  're  a  strange  creature,"  she  went  on,  curi- 
ously, as  though  fascinated  by  the  problems  pre- 
sented by  his  individuality.  "  Of  course  I 
shan't  let  it  go  as  far  as  that.  I  only  thought 
I  'd  see  what  you  'd  say.  I  '11  write  you  to- 
night." 


The  Pantechnicon  67 

"  With  a  cheque? "  Denry  demanded,  with 
suave,  jolly  courtesy.  "  I  don't  collect  postage 
stamps." 

(And  to  himself:  "She's  got  her  postage 
stamps  back.") 

She  hesitated.  "  Stay !  "  she  said.  "  I  '11  tell 
you  what  will  be  better.  Can  you  call  to- 
morrow afternoon?  The  bank  will  be  closed 
now." 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "I  can  call.     What  time?" 

"  Oh,"  she  answered,  "  any  time.  If  you 
come  in  about  four,  I  '11  give  you  a  cup  of  tea 
into  the  bargain.  Though  you  don't  deserve  it !  " 
After  an  instant,  she  added  reassuringly :  "  Of 
course  I  know  business  is  business  with  you. 
But  I  'm  glad  I  've  told  you  the  real  truth  about 
your  precious  Mr.  Herbert  Calvert,  all  the 
same." 

And  as  he  walked  slowly  home  Denry  pon- 
dered upon  the  singular,  erratic,  incalculable 
strangeness  of  woman,  and  of  the  possibly  magic 
effect  of  his  own  personality  on  women. 

II 

It  was  the  next  afternoon  in  July.  Denry 
wore  his  new  summer  suit,  but  with  a  necktie 
of  higher  rank  than  the  previous  days.  As  for 
Ruth,  that  plain  but  piquant  girl  was  in  one  of 
her  more  elaborate  and  foamier  costumes.     The 


68  Denry  the  Audacious 

wonder  was  that  such  a  costume  could  survive 
even  for  an  hour  the  smuts  that  lend  continual 
interest  and  excitement  to  the  atmosphere  of 
Bursley.  It  was  a  white  muslin,  spotted  with 
spots  of  opaque  white,  and  founded  on  some- 
thing pink.  Denry  imagined  that  he  had  seen 
parts  of  it  before — at  the  ball;  and  he  had;  but 
it  was  now  a  tea-gown,  with  long  languishing 
sleeves;  the  waves  of  it  broke  at  her  shoulders 
sending  lacy  surf  high  up  the  precipices  of  Ruth's 
neck.  Denry  did  not  know  it  was  a  tea-gown. 
But  he  knew  that  it  had  a  most  peculiar  and 
agreeable  effect  on  himself  and  that  she  had 
promised  him  tea.  He  was  glad  that  he  had 
paid  her  the  homage  of  his  best  necktie. 

Although  the  month  was  July,  Ruth  wore  a 
kind  of  shawl  over  the  tea-gown.  It  was  not  a 
shawl,  Denry  noted,  it  was  merely  about  two 
yards  of  very  thin  muslin.  He  puzzled  himself 
as  to  its  purpose.  It  could  not  be  for  warmth, 
for  it  would  not  have  helped  to  melt  an  icicle. 
Could  it  be  meant  to  fulfil  the  same  function  as 
muslin  in  a  confectioner's  shop?  She  was  pale. 
Her  voice  was  weak,  had  an  imploring  quality. 

She  led  him,  not  into  the  inhospitable  wooden 
academy,  but  into  a  very  small  room  which  like 
herself  was  dressed  in  muslin  and  bows  of  rib- 
bon. Photographs  of  amiable  men  and  women 
decorated  the  pinkish-green  walls.  The  mantel- 
piece was  concealed  in  drapery  as  though  it  had 


The  Pantechnicon  69 

been  a  sin.  A  writing-desk  as  green  as  a  leaf 
stood  carelessly  in  one  corner;  on  the  desk  a 
vase  containing  some  Cape  gooseberries.  In  the 
middle  of  the  room  a  small  table;  on  the  table 
a  spirit-lamp  in  full  blast,  and  on  the  lamp  a 
kettle  practising  scales;  a  tray  occupied  the  re- 
mainder of  the  table.  There  were  two  easy 
chairs;  Ruth  sank  delicately  into  one,  and  Denry 
took  the  other  with  precautions. 

He  was  nervous.  Nothing  equals  muslin  for 
imparting  nervousness  in  the  naive.  But  he  felt 
pleased. 

"  Not  much  of  the  Widow  Hullins  touch 
about  this ! "  he  reflected  privately. 

And  he  wished  that  all  rent-collecting  might 
be  done  with  such  ease,  and  amid  such  surround- 
ings, as  this  particular  piece  of  rent-collecting. 
He  saw  what  a  fine  thing  it  was  to  be  a  free 
man,  under  orders  from  nobody;  not  many  men 
in  Bursley  were  in  a  position  to  accept  invita- 
tions to  four  o'clock  tea  at  a  day's  notice. 
Further,  five  per  cent,  on  thirty  pounds  was 
thirty  shillings;  so  that  if  he  stayed  an  hour 
— and  he  meant  to  stay  an  hour — he  would,  while 
enjoying  himself,  be  earning  money  steadily  at 
the  rate  of  sixpence  a  minute. 

It  was  the  ideal  of  a  business  career. 

When  the  kettle,  having  finished  its  scales, 
burst  into  song  with  an  accompaniment  of  cas- 
tanets and  vapour,  and  Ruth's  sleeves  rose  and 


70  Denry  the  Audacious 

fell  as  she  made  the  tea,  Denry  acknowledged 
frankly  to  himself  that  it  was  this  sort  of  thing, 
and  not  the  Brougham  Street  sort  of  thing,  that 
he  was  really  born  for.  He  acknowledged  to 
himself  humbly  that  this  sort  of  thing  was 
"  life,"  and  that  hitherto  he  had  had  no  ade- 
quate idea  of  what  "  life  "  was.  For,  with  all 
his  ability  as  a  card  and  a  rising  man,  with  all 
his  assiduous  frequenting  of  the  Sports  Club,  he 
had  not  penetrated  into  the  upper  domestic 
strata  of  Bursley  society.  He  had  never  been 
invited  to  any  house  where,  as  he  put  it,  he  would 
have  had  to  mind  his  p's  and  q's.  He  still  re- 
mained the  kind  of  man  whom  you  familiarly 
chat  with  in  the  street  and  club,  and  no  more. 
His  mother's  fame  as  a  flannel-washer  was 
against  him ;  Brougham  Street  was  against  him ; 
and,  chiefly,  his  poverty  was  against  him.  True, 
he  had  gorgeously  given  a  house  away  to  an  aged 
widow!  True,  he  succeeded  in  transmitting  to 
his  acquaintances  a  vague  idea  that  he  was  doing 
well  and  waxing  financially  from  strength  to 
strength !  But  the  idea  was  too  vague,  too  much 
in  the  air.  And  save  by  a  suit  of  clothes  he 
never  gave  ocular  proof  that  he  had  money  to 
waste.  He  could  not.  It  was  impossible  for 
him  to  compete  with  even  the  more  modest  of 
the  bloods  and  the  blades.  To  keep  a  satisfac- 
tory straight  crease  down  the  middle  of  each  leg 
of  his  trousers  was  all  he  could  accomplish  with 


The  Pantechnicon  71 

the  money  regularly  at  his  disposal.  The  town 
was  waiting  for  him  to  do  something  decisive 
in  the  matter  of  what  it  called  "  the  stuff." 

Thus  Ruth  Earp  was  the  first  to  introduce  him 
to  the  higher  intimate  civilisations,  the  refine- 
ments lurking  behind  the  foul  walls  of  Bursley. 

"  Sugar? "  she  questioned,  her  head  on  one 
side,  her  arm  uplifted,  her  sleeve  drooping,  and 
a  bit  of  sugar  caught  like  a  white  mouse  between 
the  claws  of  the  tongs. 

Nobody  had  ever  before  said  "  Sugar?  "  to  him 
like  that.  His  mother  never  said  "  Sugar?  "  to 
him.  His  mother  was  aware  that  he  liked  three 
pieces  but  she  would  not  give  him  more  than 
two.  "  Sugar?  "  in  that  slightly  weak,  implor- 
ing voice  seemed  to  be  charged  with  a  signifi- 
cance at  once  tremendous  and  elusive. 

"  Yes,  please." 

"Another?" 

And  the  "  Another?  "  was  even  more  delicious. 

He  said  to  himself:  "I  suppose  this  is  w^hat 
they  call  flirting." 

When  a  chronicler  tells  the  exact  truth  there 
is  always  a  danger  that  he  will  not  be  believed. 
Yet  in  spite  of  the  risk,  it  must  be  said  plainly 
that  at  this  point  Denry  actually  thought  of 
marriage.  An  absurd  and  childish  thought,  pre- 
posterously rash;  but  it  came  into  his  mind,  and 
— what  is  more — it  stuck  there!  He  pictured 
marriage  as  a  perpetual  afternoon  tea  alone  with 


72  Denry  the  Audacious 

an  elegant  woman,  amid  an  environment  of  rib- 
boned muslin.  And  the  picture  appealed  to  him 
very  strongly.  And  Ruth  appeared  to  him  in  a 
new  light.  It  was  perhaps  the  change  in  her 
voice  that  did  it.  She  appeared  to  him  at  once 
as  a  creature  very  feminine  and  enchanting,  and 
as  a  creature  who  could  earn  her  own  living  in 
a  manner  that  was  both  original  and  ladylike. 
A  woman  such  as  Ruth  would  be  a  delight  with- 
out being  a  drag.  And  truly,  was  she  not  a  re- 
markable woman? — as  remarkable  as  he  was  a 
man?  Here  she  was  living  amid  the  refinements 
of  luxury.  Not  an  expensive  luxury  (he  had 
an  excellent  notion  of  the  monetary  value  of 
things)  but  still  luxury.  And  the  whole  affair 
was  so  stylish.  His  heart  went  out  to  the 
stylish. 

The  slices  of  bread-and-butter  were  rolled  up. 
There,  now,  was  a  pleasing  device!  It  cost 
nothing  to  roll  up  a  slice  of  bread-and-butter — 
her  fingers  had  doubtless  done  the  rolling — and 
yet  it  gave  quite  a  different  taste  to  the  food. 

"  What  made  you  give  that  house  to  Mrs.  Hul- 
lins?"  she  asked  him  suddenly,  with  a  candour 
that  seemed  to  demand  candour. 

"Oh!"  he  said,  "just  a  lark!  I  thought  I 
would.  It  came  to  me  all  in  a  second,  and  I 
did." 

She  shook  her  head.  "  Strange  boy ! "  she 
observed. 


The  Pantechnicon  73 

There  was  a  pause. 

"  It  was  something  Charlie  Fearns  said, 
was  n't  it?  "  she  enquired. 

She  uttered  the  name  "  Charlie  Fearns  "  with 
a  certain  faint  hint  of  disdain,  as  if  indicating 
to  Denry  that  of  course  she  and  Denry  were 
quite  able  to  put  Fearns  into  his  proper  place 
in  the  scheme  of  things. 

"  Oh !  "  he  said.     "  So  you  know  all  about  it?  " 

"  Well,"  said  she,  "  naturally  it  was  all  over 
the  town.  Mrs.  Fearns's  girl,  Annunciata — • 
what  a  name,  eh? — is  one  of  my  pupils,  the 
youngest,  in  fact." 

"  Well,"  said  he,  after  another  pause.  "  I 
wasn't  going  to  have  Fearns  coming  the  duke 
over  me !  " 

She  smiled  sympathetically.  He  felt  that  they 
understood  each  other  deeply. 

"  You  '11  find  some  cigarettes  in  that  box," 
she  said,  when  he  had  been  there  thirty  min- 
utes, and  pointed  to  the  mantelpiece. 

"  Sure  you  don't  mind?  "  he  murmured. 

She  raised  her  eyebrows. 

There  was  also  a  silver  match-box  in  the  larger 
box.  No  detail  lacked.  It  seemed  to  him  that 
he  stood  on  a  mountain  and  had  only  to  walk 
down  a  winding  path  in  order  to  enter  the  pro- 
mised land.  He  was  decidedly  pleased  with  the 
worldly  way  in  which  he  had  said :  "  Sure  you 
don't  mind?  " 


74  Denry  the  Audacious 

He  puffed  out  smoke  delicately.  And,  the 
cigarette  between  his  lips,  as  with  his  left  hand 
he  waved  the  match  into  extinction,  he  de- 
manded : 

"  You  smoke?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  "  but  not  in  public.  I  know 
what  you  men  are." 

This  was  in  the  early,  timid  days  of  feminine 
smoking. 

"  I  assure  you !  "  he  protested,  and  pushed  the 
box  towards  her.     But  she  would  not  smoke. 

"  It  is  n't  that  I  mind  yon,"  she  said,  "  not  at 
all.  But  I  'm  not  well.  I  've  got  a  frightful 
headache." 

He  put  on  a  concerned  expression. 

"  I  thought  you  looked  rather  pale,"  he  said 
awkwardly. 

"  Pale !  "  she  repeated  the  word.  "  You  should 
have  seen  me  this  morning!  I  have  fits  of  dizzi- 
ness, you  know,  too.  The  doctor  says  its  nothing 
but  dyspepsia.  However,  don't  let 's  talk  about 
poor  little  me  and  my  silly  complaints.  Perhaps 
the  tea  will  do  me  good." 

He  protested  again,  but  his  experience  of  in- 
timate civilisation  was  too  brief  to  allow  him 
to  protest  with  effectiveness.  The  truth  was,  he 
could  not  say  these  things  naturally.  He  had 
to  compose  them,  and  then  pronounce  them,  and 
the  result  failed  in  the  necessary  air  of  spon- 
taneity.    He  could  not  help  thinking  what  mar- 


The  Pantechnicon  75 

vellous  self-control  women  bad.  Now  when  lie 
had  a  headache — which  happily  was  seldom — 
he  could  think  of  nothing  else  and  talk  of  nothing 
else;  the  entire  universe  consisted  solely  of  his 
headache.  And  here  she  was  overcome  with  a 
headache  and  during  more  than  half  an  hour 
had  not  even  mentioned  it! 

She  began  talking  gossip  about  the  Fearnses 
and  the  Sweetnams,  and  she  mentioned  rumours 
concerning  Henry  Mynors  (who  had  scruples 
against  dancing)  and  Anna  Tellwright,  tlie 
daughter  of  that  rich  old  skinflint,  Ephraim  Tell- 
wright. No  mistake;  she  was  on  the  inside  of 
things  in  Bursley  society!  It  was  just  as  if 
she  had  removed  the  front  walls  of  every  house 
and  examined  every  room  at  her  leisure,  with 
minute  particularity.  But  of  course  a  teacher 
of  dancing  had  opportunities.  .  .  .  Denry  had 
to  pretend  to  be  nearly  as  omniscient  as  she  was. 

Then  she  broke  off,  without  warning,  and  lay 
back  in  her  chair. 

"  I  wonder  if  you  'd  mind  going  into  the  barn 
for  me?  "  she  murmured. 

She  generally  referred  to  her  academy  as  the 
barn.     It  had  once  been  a  warehouse. 

He  jumped  up.  "  Certainly,"  he  said,  very 
eager. 

"  I  think  you  '11  see  a  small  bottle  of  eau-de- 
cologne  on  the  top  of  the  piano,"  she  said,  and 
shut  her  eyes. 


76  Denry  the  Audacious 

He  hastened  away,  full  of  liis  mission,  and 
feeling  himself  to  be  a  terrilic  cavalier  and  guard- 
ian of  weak  women.  He  felt  keenly  that  he  must 
be  equal  to  the  situation.  Yes,  the  small  bottle 
of  eau-de-cologne  was  on  the  top  of  the  piano. 
He  seized  it  and  bore  it  to  her  on  the  wings  of 
chivalry.  He  had  not  been  aware  that  eau-de- 
cologne  was  a  remedy  for,  or  a  palliative  of 
headaches. 

She  opened  her  eyes,  and  with  a  great  effort 
tried  to  be  bright  and  better.  But  it  was  a  fail- 
ure. She  took  the  stopper  out  of  the  bottle  and 
sniffed  first  at  the  stopper  and  then  at  the  bottle; 
then  she  spilled  a  few  drops  of  the  liquid  on  her 
handkerchief  and  applied  the  handkerchief  to 
her  temples. 

"  It 's  easier,"  she  said. 

"  Sure?  "  he  asked.  He  did  not  know  what 
to  do  with  himself,  whether  to  sit  down  and 
feign  that  she  was  well,  or  to  remain  standing 
in  an  attitude  of  respectful  and  grave  anxiety. 
He  thought  he  ought  to  depart;  yet  would  it  not 
be  ungallant  to  desert  her  under  the  circum- 
stances? She  was  alone.  She  had  no  servant, 
only  an  occasional  charwoman. 

She  nodded  with  brave,  false  gaiety.  And 
then  she  had  a  relapse. 

"Don't  you  think  you'd  better  lie  down?" 
he  suggested  in  more  masterful  accents.  And 
added:     "And  I'll  go?  .  .  .     You  ought  to  lie 


The  Pantechnicon  77 

down.  It's  the  only  thing."  He  was  now 
speaking  to  her  like  a  wise  uncle. 

"  Oh,  no ! "  she  said,  without  conviction. 
"  Besides,  you  can't  go  till  I  've  paid  you." 

It  was  on  the  tip  of  his  tongue  to  say :  "  Oh ! 
don't  bother  about  that,  now ! "  But  he  re- 
strained himself.  There  was  a  notable  core  of 
common-sense  in  Denry.  He  had  been  puzzling 
how  he  might  neatly  mention  the  rent  while  de- 
parting in  a  hurry  so  that  she  might  lie  down. 
And  now  she  had  solved  the  difficulty  for 
him. 

She  stretched  out  her  arm,  and  picked  up  a 
bunch  of  keys  from  a  basket  on  a  little  table. 

"  You  might  just  unlock  that  desk  for  me, 
will  you?  "  she  said.  And  further,  as  she  went 
through  the  keys  one  by  one  to  select  the  right 
key :  "  Each  quarter  I  've  put  your  precious 
Mr.  Herbert  Calvert's  rent  in  a  drawer  in  that 
desk.  .  .  .  Here  's  the  key."  She  held  up  the 
whole  ring  by  the  chosen  key,  and  he  accepted 
it.  And  she  lay  back  once  more  in  her  chair, 
exhausted  by  her  exertions. 

"  You  must  turn  the  key  sharply  in  the  lock," 
she  said  weakly,  as  he  fumbled  at  the  locked 
part  of  the  desk. 

So  he  turned  the  key  sharply. 

"  You  '11  see  a  bag  in  the  little  drawer  on  the 
right,"  she  murmured. 

The  key   turned   round  and  round.      It  had 


78  Denry  the  Audacious 

begun  by  resisting  but  now  it  yielded  too  easily. 

"  It  does  n't  seem  to  open,"  he  said,  feeling 
clumsy. 

The  key  clicked  and  slid,  and  the  other  keys 
rattled  together. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  she  replied.  "  I  opened  it  quite 
easily  this  morning.     It  is  a  bit  catchy." 

The  key  kept  going  round  and  round. 

"  Here !     I  '11  do  it,"  she  said  wearily. 

"  Oh,  no !  "  he  urged. 

But  she  rose  courageously,  and  tottered  to  the 
desk,  and  took  the  bunch  off  him. 

"  I  'm  afraid  you  've  broken  something  in  the 
lock,"  she  announced,  which  gentle  resigna- 
tion, after  she  had  tried  to  open  the  desk  and 
failed. 

"Have  I?"  he  mumbled.  He  knew  that  he 
was  not  shining. 

"  Would  you  mind  calling  in  at  Allman's,"  she 
said,  resuming  her  chair,  "  and  tell  them  to  send 
a  man  down  at  once  to  pick  the  lock?  There  's 
nothing  else  for  it.  Or  perhaps  you  'd  better 
say  first  thing  to-morrow  morning.  And  then  as 
soon  as  he  's  done  it,  I  '11  call  and  pay  you  the 
money,  myself.  And  you  miglit  tell  your  pre- 
cious Mr.  Herbert  Calvert  that  next  quarter  I 
shall  give  notice  to  leave." 

"Don't  you  trouble  to  call,  please!"  said  he. 
"  I  can  easily  pop  in  here." 

She  sped  him  away  in  an  enigmatic  tone.    He 


The  Pantechnicon  79 

could  not  be  sure  whether  he  had  succeeded  or 
failed,  in  her  estimation,  as  a  man  of  the  world 
and  a  partaker  of  delicate  teas. 

"Don't  forget  Allman's!"  she  enjoined  him 
as  he  left  the  room.     He  was  to  let  himself  out. 

"  Oh,  no !  "  he  said. 


Ill 


He  was  coming  home  late  that  night  from  the 
Sports  Club,  from  a  delectable  evening  which 
had  lasted  till  one  o'clock  in  the  morning,  when 
Just  as  he  put  the  large  door-key  into  his  mother's 
cottage,  he  grew  aware  of  peculiar  phenomena 
at  the  top  end  of  Brougham  Street,  where  it  runs 
into  St.  Luke's  Square.  And  then,  in  the  gas-lit 
gloom  of  the  dark  summer  night  he  perceived 
a  vast  and  vague  rectangular  form  in  slow 
movement  towards  the  slope  of  Brougham 
Street. 

It  was  a  pantechnicon  van. 

But  the  extraordinary  thing  was,  not  that  it 
should  be  a  pantechnicon  van,  but  that  it  should 
be  moving  of  its  own  accord  and  power.  For 
there  were  no  horses  in  front  of  it,  and  Denry 
saw  that  the  double  shafts  liad  been  pushed  up 
perpendicularly,  after  tlie  manner  of  carmen 
when  they  outspan.  The  pantechnicon  was  run- 
ning away.  It  had  perceived  the  wrath  to  come 
and  was  fleeing.     Its  guardians  had  evidently 


8o  Denry  the  Audacious 

left  it  imperfectly  scotched  or  braked  and  it  had 
got  loose. 

It  proceeded  down  the  first  bit  of  Brougham 
Street  with  a  dignity  worthy  of  its  dimensions, 
and  at  the  same  time  with  apparently  a  certain 
sense  of  the  humour  of  the  situation.  Then  it 
seemed  to  be  saying  to  itself :  "  Pantechnicons 
will  be  pantechnicons."  Then  it  took  on  the  ab- 
surd gravity  of  a  man  who  is  perfectly  sure  that 
he  is  not  drunk.  Nevertheless  it  kept  fairly  well 
to  the  middle  of  the  road,  but  as  though  the  road 
were  a  tight  rope. 

The  rumble  of  it  increased  as  it  approached 
Denry.  He  withdrew  the  key  from  his  mother's 
cottage  and  put  it  in  his  pocket.  He  was  always 
at  his  finest  in  a  crisis.  And  the  onrush  of  the 
pantechnicon  constituted  a  clear  crisis.  Lower 
down  the  gradient  of  Brougham  Street  was  more 
dangerous,  and  it  was  within  the  possibilities 
that  people  inhabiting  the  depths  of  the  street 
might  find  themselves  pitched  out  of  bed  by  the 
sharp  corner  of  a  pantechnicon  that  was  de- 
termined to  be  a  pantechnicon.  A  pantechnicon 
whose  ardour  is  fairly  aroused  may  be  capable 
of  surpassing  deeds.  Whole  thoroughfares  might 
crumble  before  it. 

As  the  pantechnicon  passed  Denry,  at  the  rate 
of  about  three  and  a  half  miles  an  hour,  he 
leaped,  or  rather  he  scrambled,  on  to  it,  losing 
nothing  in   the   process  except  his  straw   hat, 


The  Pantechnicon  8i 

which  remained  a  witness  at  his  mother's  door 
that  her  boy  had  been  that  way  and  departed 
under  unusual  circumstances. 

Denry  had  the  bright  idea  of  dropping  the 
shafts  dowm,  to  act  as  a  brake.  But,  unaccus- 
tomed to  the  manipulation  of  shafts,  he  was 
rather  slow  in  accomplishing  the  deed,  and  ere 
the  first  pair  of  shafts  had  fallen  the  pantechni- 
con was  doing  quite  eight  miles  an  hour  and 
the  steepest  declivity  was  yet  to  come.  Further 
the  dropping  of  the  left-hand  shafts  jerked  the 
van  to  the  left,  and  Denry  dropped  the  other 
pair  only  just  in  time  to  avoid  the  sudden  up- 
rooting of  a  lamp-post.  Tlie  four  points  of  the 
shafts  digging  and  prodding  into  the  surface  of 
the  road  gave  the  pantechnicon  something  to 
til  ink  about  for  a  few  seconds.  But  unfortu- 
nately the  precipitousness  of  the  street  en- 
couraged its  headstrong  caprices,  and  a  few 
seconds  later  all  four  shafts  were  broken;  and 
the  pantechnicon  seemed  to  scent  the  open 
prairie.  (What  it  really  did  scent  w^as  the 
canal.)  Then  Denry  discovered  the  brake,  and 
furiously  struggled  with  the  iron  handle.  He 
turned  it  and  turned  it,  some  forty  revolutions. 
It  seemed  to  have  no  effect.  The  miracle  was 
tliat  the  pantechnicon  maintained  its  course  in 
the  middle  of  the  street.  Presently  Denry  could 
vaguely  distinguish  the  wall  and  double  wooden 
gates  of  the  canal  wharf.     He  could  not  jump 


82  Denry  the  Audacious 

off;  the  pantechnicon  was  now  an  express;  and 
I  doubt  whether  lie  would  have  jumped  off  even 
if  jumping  off  had  not  been  madness.  His  was 
the  kind  of  perseverance  that,  for  the  fun  of  it, 
will  perish  in  an  attempt.  The  final  fifty  or 
sixty  yards  of  Brougham  Street  were  level,  and 
the  pantechnicon  slightly  abated  its  haste. 
Denry  could  now  plainly  see,  in  the  radiance 
of  a  gas-lamp,  the  gates  of  the  wharf,  and  on 
them  the  painted  letters :  "  Shropshire  Union 
Canal  Coy.  Ltd.  General  Carriers.  No  admit- 
tance except  on  business."  He  was  heading 
straight  for  those  gates,  and  the  pantechnicon 
evidently  had  business  within.  It  jolted  over 
the  iron  guard  of  the  weighing  machine,  and 
this  jolt  deflected  it,  so  that  instead  of  aiming  at 
the  gates  it  aimed  for  part  of  a  gate  and  part 
of  a  brick  pillar.  Denry  ground  his  teeth  to- 
gether and  clung  to  his  seat.  The  gate  might 
have  been  paper  and  the  brick  pillar  a  cardboard 
pillar.  The  pantechnicon  went  through  them  as 
a  sword  will  go  through  a  ghost,  and  Denry  was 
still  alive.  The  remainder  of  the  journey  was 
brief  and  violent,  owing  partly  to  a  number  of 
bags  of  cement  and  partly  to  the  propinquity  of 
the  canal  basin.  The  pantechnicon  jumped  into 
the  canal  like  a  mastodon,  and  drank. 

Denry,  clinging  to  the  woodwork,  was  sub- 
merged for  a  moment,  but  by  standing  on  the 
narrow  platform  from  which  sprouted  the  splin- 


The  Pantechnicon  83 

tered  ends  of  the  shafts,  he  could  get  his  waist 
clear  of  the  water.     He  was  not  a  swimmer. 

All  was  still;  and  dark,  save  for  the  faint 
stream  of  starlight  on  the  broad  bosom  of  the 
canal  basin.  The  pantechnicon  had  encountered 
nobody  whatever  en  route.  Of  its  strange  es- 
capade Denry  had  been  the  sole  witness. 

"  Well,  I  'm  dashed !  "  he  murmured  aloud. 

And  a  voice  replied  from  the  belly  of  the 
pantechnicon  :     "  Who  is  there?  " 

All  Denry's  body  shook. 

"  It 's  me !  "  said  he. 

"  Not  Mr.  Machin?  "  said  the  voice. 

"  Yes,"  said  he.  "  I  jumped  on  as  it  came 
down  the  street — and  here  we  are !  " 

"  Oh !  "  cried  the  voice.  "  I  do  wish  you  could 
get  round  to  me !  " 

Ruth  Earp's  voice! 

He  saw  the  truth  in  a  moment  of  piercing  in- 
sight. Euth  had  been  playing  with  him!  She 
had  performed  a  comedy  for  him  in  two  acts. 
She  had  meant  to  do  what  is  called  in  the  Five 
Towns  "  a  moonlight  flit."  The  pantechnicon 
(doubtless  from  Birmingham,  where  her  father 
was)  had  been  brought  to  her  door  late  in  the 
evening,  and  was  to  have  been  filled  and  taken 
away  during  the  night.  The  horses  had  been 
stabled,  probably  in  Ruth's  own  yard,  and  while 
the  carmen  were  reposing  the  pantechnicon  had 
got  off,  Ruth  in  it.     She  had  no  money  locked  in 


84  Denry  the  Audacious 

her  unlockable  desk.  Her  reason  for  not  having 
paid  the  precious  Mr.  Herbert  Calvert  was  not 
the  reason  which  she  had  advanced. 

His  first  staggered  thought  was : 

"  She  •  s  got  a  nerve !     No  mistake !  " 

Her  duplicity,  her  wickedness,  did  not  shock 
him.  He  admired  her  tremendous  and  audacious 
enterprise;  it  appealed  strongly  to  every  cell  in 
his  brain.  He  felt  that  she  and  he  were  kindred 
spirits. 

He  tried  to  clamber  round  the  side  of  the  van 
so  as  to  get  to  the  doors  at  the  back,  but  a 
pantechnicon  has  a  wheel-base  which  forbids 
leaping  from  wheel  to  wheel,  especially  when 
the  wheels  are  under  water.  Hence  he  was 
obliged  to  climb  on  to  the  roof,  and  so  slide 
down  on  to  the  top  of  one  of  the  doors,  which  was 
swinging  loose.  The  feat  was  not  simple.  At 
last  he  felt  the  floor  of  the  van  under  half  a 
yard  of  water. 

"  Where  are  you?  " 

"  I  'm  here,"  said  Euth,  very  plaintively. 
"  I  'm  on  a  table.  It  was  the  only  thing  they 
had  put  into  the  van  before  they  went  off  to 
have  their  supper  or  something.  Furniture  re- 
movers are  always  like  that.  Haven't  you  got 
a  match?  " 

"  I  've  got  scores  of  matches,"  said  Denry. 
"  But  what  good  do  you  suppose  they  '11  be  now? 
All  soaked  through !  " 


The  Pantechnicon  85 

A  short  silence.  He  noticed  that  she  had  of- 
fered no  explanation  of  her  conduct  towards 
himself.  She  seemed  to  take  it  for  granted  that 
he  would  understand. 

"  I  'm  frightfully  bumped,  and  I  believe  my 
nose  is  bleeding/'  said  Ruth,  still  more  plain- 
tively. "  It 's  a  good  thing  there  was  a  lot  of 
straw  and  sacks  here." 

Then,  after  much  groping,  his  hand  touched 
her  wet  dress. 

"  You  know  you  're  a  very  naughty  girl,"  he 
said. 

He  heard  a  sob,  a  wild  sob.  The  proud,  in- 
dependent creature  had  broken  down  under  the 
stress  of  events.  He  climbed  out  of  the  water 
on  to  the  part  of  the  table  which  she  was  not 
occupying.    And  the  van  was  as  black  as  Erebus. 

Gradually,  out  of  the  welter  of  sobs,  came  faint 
articulations,  and  little  by  little  he  learnt  the 
entire  story  of  her  difficulties,  her  misfortunes, 
her  struggles,  and  her  defeats.  He  listened  to  a 
frank  confession  of  guilt.  But  what  could  she 
do?  She  had  meant  well.  But  what  could 
she  do?  She  had  been  driven  into  a  corner. 
And  she  had  her  father  to  think  of!  Honestly, 
on  the  previous  day,  she  had  intended  to  pay  the 
rent,  or  part  of  it.  But  there  had  been  a  dis- 
appointment! And  she  had  been  so  unwell.  In 
short.  .  .  . 

The  van  gave  a  lurch.     She  clutched  at  him 


86  Denry  the  Audacious 

and  he  at  her.  The  van  was  settling  down  for 
a  comfortable  night  in  the  mud. 

(Queer  that  it  had  not  occurred  to  him  be- 
fore; but  at  the  first  visit  she  had  postponed  pay- 
ing him  on  the  plea  that  the  bank  was  closed; 
while  at  the  second  visit  she  had  stated  that 
the  actual  cash  had  been  slowly  accumulating  in 
her  desk.  And  the  discrepancy  had  not  struck 
him !  Such  is  the  influence  of  a  tea-gown.  How- 
ever, he  forgave  her,  in  consideration  of  her 
immense  audacity.) 

"What  can  we  do?"  she  almost  whispered. 
Her  confidence  in  him  affected  him. 

"  Wait  till  it  gets  light,"  said  he. 

So  they  waited,  amid  the  waste  of  waters.  In 
a  hot  July  it  is  not  unpleasant  to  dangle  one's 
feet  in  water  during  the  sultry  dark  hours.  She 
told  him  more  and  more. 

When  the  inspiring  grey  preliminaries  of  the 
dawn  began,  Denry  saw  that  at  the  back  of  the 
pantechnicon  the  waste  of  waters  extended  for 
at  most  a  yard,  and  that  it  was  easy,  by  climbing 
on  to  the  roof,  to  jump  therefrom  to  the  wharf. 
He  did  so;  and  then  fixed  a  plank  so  that  Ruth 
could  get  ashore.  Relieved  of  their  weight  the 
table  floated  out  after  them.  Denry  seized  it, 
and  set  about  smashing  it  to  pieces  with  his  feet. 

"  What  are  you  doing? "  she  asked  faintly. 
She  was  too  enfeebled  to  protest  more  vigorously. 

"  Leave  it  to  me,"  said  Denry.     "  This  table 


The  Pantechnicon  87 

is  the  only  thing  that  can  give  your  show  away. 
We  can't  carry  it  back.  We  might  meet  some 
one." 

He  tied  the  fragments  of  the  table  together 
with  rope  that  was  afloat  in  the  van,  and  at- 
tached the  heavy  iron  bar  whose  function  was 
to  keep  the  doors  closed.  Then  he  sank  the  fag- 
got of  wood  and  iron  in  a  distant  corner  of  the 
basin. 

"  There !  "  he  said.  "  Now  you  understand, 
nothing 's  happened  except  that  a  furniture 
van  's  run  off  and  fallen  into  the  canal,  owing 
to  the  men's  carelessness. 

"  We  can  settle  the  rest  later — I  mean  about 
the  rent  and  so  on." 

They  looked  at  each  other. 

Her  skirts  were  nearly  dry.  Her  nose  showed 
no  trace  of  bleeding,  but  there  was  a  bluish  lump 
over  her  left  eye.  Save  that  he  was  hatless,  and 
that  his  trousers  clung,  he  was  not  utterly  un- 
presentable. 

They  were  alone  in  the  silent  dawn. 

"  You  'd  better  go  home  by  Acre  Lane,  not  up 
Brougham  Street,"  he  said.  "  I  '11  come  in  dur- 
ing the  morning." 

It  was  a  parting  in  which  more  was  felt  than 
said. 

They  went  one  after  the  other  through  the 
devastated  gateway,  baptising  the  path  as  they 
walked.     The  Town  Hall  clock  struck  three  as 


88  Denry  the  Audacious 

Denry   crept   up  liis  mother's  stairs.     He  had 
seen  not  a  soul. 


IV 


The  exact  truth  in  its  details  was  never  known 
to  more  than  two  inhabitants  of  Bursley.  The 
one  clear  certainty  appeared  to  be  that  Denry, 
in  endeavouring  to  prevent  a  runaway  pantechni- 
con from  destroying  the  town,  had  travelled  with 
it  into  the  canal.  The  romantic  trip  was  ac- 
cepted as  perfectly  characteristic  of  Denry. 
Around  this  island  of  fact  washed  a  fabulous 
sea  of  uninformed  gossip,  in  which  assertion  con- 
flicted with  assertion,  and  the  names  of  Denry 
and  Euth  were  continually  bumping  against 
each  other. 

Mr.  Herbert  Calvert  glanced  queerly  and  per- 
haps sardonically  at  Denry  when  Denry  called 
and  handed  over  ten  pounds  (less  commis- 
sion) which  he  said  Miss  Earp  had  paid  on 
account. 

"  Look  here,"  said  the  little  Calvert,  his  mean 
little  eyes  gleaming,  "you  must  get  in  the  bal- 
ance at  once." 

"  That 's  all  right,"  said  Denry.     "  I  shall." 

"Was  she  trying  to  hook  it  on  the  q.  t.?" 
Calvert  demanded. 

"  Oh,  no !  "  said  Denry.  "  That  was  a  very 
funny  misunderstanding.     The  only  explanation 


The  Pantechnicon  89 

I  can  think  of  is  that  that  van  must  have  come 
to  the  wrong  house." 

"  Are  you  engaged  to  her? "  Calvert  asked, 
with  amazing  effrontery. 

Denry  paused.  "  Yes,"  he  said.  "  Are  you?  " 
Mr.  Calvert  wondered  what  he  meant. 

He  admitted  to  himself  that  the  courtship  had 
begun  in  a  manner  surpassingly  strange. 


CHAPTER  IV.     WRECKING  OF  A  LIFE 

I 

In  the  Five  Towns,  and  perhaps  elsewhere, 
there  exists  a  custom  in  virtue  of  which  a  couple 
who  have  become  engaged  in  the  early  summer 
find  themselves  by  a  most  curious  coincidence 
at  the  same  seaside  resort,  and  often  in  the 
same  street  thereof,  during  August.  Thus  it 
happened  to  Denry  and  to  Ruth  Earp.  There 
had  been  difficulties — there  always  are.  A  busi- 
ness man  who  lives  by  collecting  weekly  rents 
obviously  cannot  go  away  for  an  indefinite 
period.  And  a  young  woman  who  lives  alone 
in  the  world  is  bound  to  respect  public  opinion. 
However,  Ruth  arranged  that  her  girlish  friend 
Nellie  Cotterill,  who  had  generous  parents, 
should  accompany  her.  And  the  North  Staf- 
fordshire Railway's  philanthropic  scheme  of  issu- 
ing four-shilling  tourist  return  tickets  to  the 
seaside  enabled  Denry  to  persuade  his  mother 
and  himself  that  he  was  not  absolutely  mad  in 
contemplating  a  fortnight  on  the  shores  of 
England. 

Ruth  chose  Llandudno,  Llandudno  being  more 
90 


Wrecking  of  a  Life  91 

stylish  than  either  Rhyl  or  Blackpool,  and 
not  dearer.  Ruth  and  Nellie  had  a  double 
room  in  a  boarding-house,  No.  26,  St.  Asaph's 
Road  (off  the  Marine  Parade),  and  Denry 
had  a  small  single  room  in  another  board- 
ing-house, No.  28,  St.  Asaph's  Road.  The  ideal 
could  scarcely  have  been  approached  more 
nearly. 

Denry  had  never  seen  the  sea  before.  As, 
in  his  gayest  clothes,  he  strolled  along  the  espla- 
nade or  on  the  pier  between  those  two  girls  in 
their  gayest  clothes,  and  mingled  with  the  im- 
mense crowd  of  pleasure-seekers  and  money- 
spenders,  he  was  undoubtedly  much  impressed 
by  the  beauty  and  grandeur  of  the  sea.  But 
what  impressed  him  far  more  than  the  beauty 
and  grandeur  of  the  sea  was  the  field  for  pro- 
fitable commercial  enterprise  which  a  place  like 
Llandudno  presented.  He  had  not  only  his  first 
vision  of  the  sea,  but  his  first  genuine  vision  of 
the  possibilities  of  amassing  wealth  by  honest 
ingenuity.  On  the  morning  after  his  arrival  he 
went  out  for  a  walk  and  lost  himself  near  the 
Great  Orme,  and  had  to  return  hurriedly  along 
the  whole  length  of  the  Parade  about  nine 
o'clock.  And  through  every  ground-floor  win- 
dow of  every  house  he  saw  a  long  table  full 
of  people  eating  and  drinking  the  same  kinds 
of  food.  In  Llandudno  fifty  tliousand  souls  de- 
sired always  to  perform  the  same  act  at  the 


92  Denry  the  Audacious 

same  time;  they  wanted  to  be  distracted  and 
they  would  do  anything  for  the  sake  of  dis- 
traction, and  would  pay  for  the  privilege.  And 
they  would  all  pay  at  once. 

Tliis  thought  was  more  majestic  to  liim  than 
the  sea  or  the  Great  Orme  or  the  Little  Orme. 

It  stuck  in  his  head  because  he  had  sud- 
denly grown  into  a  very  serious  person.  He 
had  now  something  to  live  for,  something  on 
which  to  lavish  his  energy.  He  was  happy  in 
being  aflftanced,  and  more  proud  than  happy,  and 
more  startled  than  proud.  The  manner  and 
method  of  his  courtship  had  sharply  differed 
from  his  previous  conception  of  what  such  an 
affair  would  be.  He  had  not  passed  through 
the  sensations  which  he  would  have  expected  to 
pass  through.  And  then  this  question  was  con- 
tinually presenting  itself:  What  could  she  see 
in  him?  She  must  have  got  a  notion  that  he 
was  far  more  wonderful  tlian  he  really  was. 
Could  it  be  true  that  she,  his  superior  in  ex- 
perience and  in  splendour  of  person,  had  kissed 
him?  Him!  He  felt  that  it  would  be  his  duty 
to  live  up  to  this  exaggerated  notion  which  she 
had  of  him.     But  how? 

II 

They  had  not  yet  discussed  finance  at  all, 
though  Denry  would  have  liked  to  discuss  it. 
Evidently  she  regarded  him  as  a  man  of  means. 


Wrecking  of  a  Life  93 

This  became  clear  during  the  progress  of  the 
journey  to  Llandudno.  Denry  was  flattered. 
But  the  next  day  he  had  slight  misgivings,  and 
on  the  day  following  he  was  alarmed;  and  on 
the  day  after  that  his  state  resembled  terror.  It 
is  truer  to  say  that  she  regarded  him  less  as 
a  man  of  means  than  as  a  magic  and  inex- 
haustible siphon  of  money. 

He  simply  could  not  stir  out  of  the  house 
without  spending  money,  and  often  in  ways  quite 
unforeseen.  Pier,  minstrels.  Punch  and  Judy, 
bathing,  buns,  ices,  canes,  fruit,  chairs,  row- 
boats,  concerts,  toffee,  photographs,  char-a-bancs; 
any  of  these  expenditures  was  likely  to  happen 
whenever  they  went  forth  for  a  simple  stroll. 
One  might  think  that  strolls  were  gratis,  that 
the  air  was  free!  Error!  If  he  had  had  the 
courage  he  would  have  left  his  purse  in  the 
house,  as  Ruth  invariably  did.  But  men  are 
moral  cowards. 

He  had  calculated  thus:  Return  fare,  four 
shillings  a  week.  Agreed  terms  at  boarding- 
house,  twenty-five  shillings  a  week.  Total  ex- 
penses per  week,  twenty-nine  shillings, — say 
thirty ! 

On  the  first  day  he  spent  fourteen  shillings 
on  nothing  whatever — which  was  at  the  rate  of 
five  pounds  a  week  of  supplementary  estimates! 
On  the  second  day  he  spent  nineteen  shillings 
on  nothing  whatever,  and  Ruth  insisted  on  his 


94  Denry  the  Audacious 

having  tea  with  herself  and  Nellie  at  their  board- 
ing-house; for  which  of  course  he  had  to  pay, 
while  his  own  tea  was  wasting  next  door.  So 
the  figures  ran  on,  jumping  up  each  day.  Mer- 
cifully, when  Sunday  dawned  the  open  wound 
in  his  pocket  was  temporarily  staunched.  Ruth 
wished  him  to  come  in  for  tea  again.  He  re- 
fused. At  any  rate  he  did  not  come.  And  the 
exquisite  placidity  of  the  stream  of  their  love 
was  slightly  disturbed. 

Nobody  could  have  guessed  that  she  was  in 
monetary  difficulties  on  her  own  account.  Denry, 
as  a  chivalrous  lover,  had  assisted  her  out  of  the 
fearful  quagmire  of  her  rent ;  but  she  owed  much 
beyond  rent.  Yet,  when  some  of  her  quarterly 
fees  had  come  in,  her  thoughts  had  instantly 
run  to  Llandudno,  joy,  and  frocks.  She  did  not 
know  what  money  was,  and  she  never  would. 
This  was,  perhaps,  part  of  her  superior  splen- 
dour. The  gentle,  timid,  silent  Nellie  occasion- 
ally let  Denry  see  that  she,  too,  was  scandalised 
by  her  bosom  friend's  recklessness.  Often  Nellie 
would  modestly  beg  for  permission  to  pay  her 
share  of  the  cost  of  an  amusement.  And  it 
seemed  just  to  Denry  that  she  should  pay  her 
share.  And  he  violently  wished  to  accept  her 
money.  But  he  could  not.  He  would  even  get 
quite  curt  with  her  when  she  insisted.  From 
this  it  will  be  seen  how  absurdly  and  irration- 
ally different  he  was  from  the  rest  of  us. 


Wrecking  of  a  Life  95 

Nellie  was  continually  with  them,  except  just 
before  they  separated  for  the  night.  So  that 
Denry  paid  consistently  for  three.  But  he  liked 
Nellie  Cotterill.  She  blushed  so  easily,  and  she 
so  obviously  worshipped  Ruth  and  admired  him- 
self. And  there  was  a  marked  vein  of  common 
sense  in  her  ingenuous  composition. 

On  the  Monday  morning  he  was  up  early  and 
off  to  Bursley  to  collect  rents  and  manage  es- 
tates. He  had  spent  nearly  five  pounds  beyond 
his  expectation.  Indeed,  if  by  chance  he  had  not 
gone  to  Llandudno  with  a  portion  of  the  previous 
week's  rents  in  his  pockets,  he  would  have  been 
in  what  the  Five  Towns  call  a  fix. 

While  in  Bursley  he  thought  a  good  deal. 
Bursley  in  August  encourages  nothing  but 
thought.  His  mother  was  working  as  usual. 
His  recitals  to  her  of  the  existence  led  by  be- 
trothed lovers  at  Llandudno  were  vague. 

On  the  Tuesday  evening  he  returned  to  Llan- 
dudno. And,  despite  the  general  trend  of  his 
thoughts,  it  once  more  occurred  that  his  pockets 
were  loaded  with  a  portion  of  the  week's  rents. 
He  did  not  know  precisely  what  was  going  to 
happen,  but  lie  knew  that  something  was  going 
to  happen ;  for  the  sufficient  reason  that  his 
career  could  not  continue  unless  something  did 
happen.  Without  either  a  quarrel,  an  under- 
standing, or  a  miracle,  three  months  of  affianced 
bliss  with   Ruth   Earp   would  exhaust   his  re- 


96  Denry  the  Audacious 

sources  and  ruin  liis  reputation  as  one  wbo  was 
ever  equal  to  a  crisis. 


Ill 


What  immediately  happened  was  a  storm  at 
sea.  He  heard  it  mentioned  at  Ehyl,  and  he 
saw,  in  the  deep  night,  the  foam  of  breakers  at 
Prestatyn.  And  when  the  train  reached  Llan- 
dudno, those  two  girls  in  ulsters  and  caps  greeted 
him  with  wondrous  tales  of  the  storm  at  sea, 
and  of  wrecks,  and  of  lifeboats.  And  they  were 
so  jolly,  and  so  welcoming,  so  plainly  glad  to 
see  their  cavalier  again,  that  Denry  instantly 
discovered  himself  to  be  in  the  highest  spirits. 
He  put  away  the  dark  and  brooding  thoughts 
which  had  disfigured  his  journey,  and  became 
the  gay  Denry  of  his  own  dreams.  The  very 
wind  intoxicated  him !     There  was  no  rain. 

It  was  half-past  nine,  and  half  Llandudno  was 
afoot  on  the  Parade  and  discussing  the  storm — 
a  storm  unparalleled,  it  seemed,  in  the  month 
of  August.  At  any  rate,  people  who  had  visited 
Llandudno  yearly  for  twenty-five  years  declared 
that  never  had  they  witnessed  such  a  storm.  If 
the  tide  had  not  been  out  the  Parade  would  have 
been  uninhabitable.  The  new  lifeboat  had  gone 
forth,  amid  cheers,  about  six  o'clock  to  a 
schooner  in  distress  near  Rhos.  And  at  eight 
o'clock  a  second  lifeboat  (an  old  one  which  the 


Wrecking  of  a  Life  97 

new  one  had  replaced  and  which  had  been 
bought  for  a  floating  warehouse  by  an  aged 
fisherman)  had  departed  to  the  rescue  of  a  Nor- 
wegian barque,  the  Ejalmar,  round  the  bend  of 
the  Little  Orme. 

"  Let 's  go  on  the  pier,"  said  Denry.  "  It  will 
be  splendid." 

He  was  not  an  hour  in  the  town,  and  yet 
was  already  hanging  expense! 

"  They  've  closed  the  pier,"  the  girls  told  him. 

But  when  in  the  course  of  their  meanderings 
among  the  excited  crowd  under  the  gas-lamps 
they  arrived  at  the  pier-gates,  Denry  perceived 
figures  on  the  pier. 

"  They  're  sailors  and  things,  and  the  Mayor," 
the  girls  explained. 

"  Pooh !  "  said  Denry,  fired. 

He  approached  the  turnstile  and  handed  a 
card  to  the  official.  It  was  the  card  of  an  ad- 
vertisement agent  of  the  Staffordshire  Signal, 
who  had  called  at  Brougham  Street  in  Denry 's 
absence  about  the  renewal  of  Denry's  adver- 
tisement. 

"  Press,"  said  Denry  to  the  guardian  at  the 
turnstile,  and  went  through  with  the  ease  of  a 
bird  on  the  wing. 

"  Come  along,"  he  cried  to  the  girls. 

The  guardian  seemed  to  hesitate. 

"  These  ladies  are  with  me,"  he  said. 

The  guardian  yielded. 


98  Denry  the  Audacious 

It  was  a  triumph  for  Denry.  He  could  read 
his  triumph  in  tlie  eyes  of  his  companions. 
When  she  looked  at  him  like  that,  Ruth  was 
assuredly  marvellous  among  women.  And  any 
ideas  derogatory  to  her  marvellousness  which 
he  might  have  had  at  Bursley  and  in  the  train 
were  false  ideas. 

At  the  head  of  the  pier  beyond  the  pavilion 
there  were  gathered  together  some  fifty  people. 
And  the  tale  ran  that  the  second  lifeboat  had 
successfully  accomplished  its  mission  and  was 
approaching  the  pier. 

"  I  shall  write  an  account  of  this  for  the 
Signal/'  said  Denry,  whose  thoughts  were  ex- 
cusably on  the  Press. 

"  Oh,  do !  "  exclaimed  Nellie. 

"  They  have  the  Signal  at  all  the  newspaper 
shops  here,"  said  Ruth. 

Then  they  seemed  to  be  merged  in  the  storm. 
The  pier  shook  and  trembled  under  the  shock 
of  the  waves,  and  occasionally,  though  the  tide 
was  very  low,  a  sprinkle  of  water  flew  up  and 
caught  their  faces.  The  eyes  could  see  nothing 
save  the  passing  glitter  of  the  foam  on  the  crest 
of  a  breaker.  It  was  the  most  thrilling  situa- 
tion that  any  of  them  had  ever  been  in. 

And  at  last  came  word  from  the  mouths  of 
men  who  could  apparently  see  as  well  in  dark 
as  in  daylight  that  the  second  lifeboat  was  close 
to  the  pier.     And  then  everybody  momentarily 


Wrecking  of  a  Life  99 

saw  it — a  ghostly  thing  that  heaved  up  pale  out 
of  the  murk  for  an  instant  and  was  lost  again. 
And  the  little  crowd  cheered. 

The  next  moment  a  Bengal  light  illuminated 
the  pier,  and  the  lifeboat  was  silhouetted  with 
strange  effectiveness  against  the  storm.  And 
some  one  flung  a  rope.  And  then  another  rope 
arrived  out  of  the  sea  and  fell  on  Denry's 
shoulder. 

"  Haul  on  there !  "  yelled  a  hoarse  voice.  The 
Bengal  light  expired. 

Denry  hauled  with  a  will.  The  occasion  was 
unique.  And  those  few  seconds  were  worth  to 
him  the  whole  of  Denry's  precious  life — yes,  not 
excluding  the  seconds  in  which  he  had  kissed 
Ruth  and  the  minutes  in  which  he  had  danced 
with  the  Countess  of  Chell.  Then  two  men  with 
beards  took  the  rope  from  his  hands.  The  air 
was  now  alive  with  shoutings.  Finally  there 
was  a  rush  of  men  down  the  iron  stairway  to 
the  lower  part  of  the  pier,  ten  feet  nearer  the 
water. 

"  You  stay  here,  you  two ! "  Denry  ordered, 
extremely  excited. 

"  But  Denry " 

"  Stay  here,  I  tell  you ! "  All  the  male  in 
him  was  aroused.  He  was  off,  after  the  rush 
of  men.  "  Half  a  jiffy!  "  he  said,  coming  back. 
"Just  take  charge  of  this,  will  you?"  And  he 
poured  into  their  hands  about  twelve  shillings' 


100  Denry  the  Audacious 

worth  of  copper,  small  change  of  rents,  from 
his  pocket.  "  If  anything  happened,  that  might 
sink  me,"  he  said,  and  vanished. 

It  was  very  characteristic  of  him,  that  effusion 
of  calm  sagacity  in  a  supreme  emergency. 


IV 


Beyond  getting  his  feet  wet  Denry  accom- 
plished but  little  in  the  dark  basement  of  the 
pier.  In  spite  of  his  success  in  hauling  on  the 
thrown  rope,  he  seemed  to  be  classed  at  once 
down  there  by  the  experts  assembled  as  an  eager 
and  useless  person  who  had  no  right  to  the 
space  which  he  occupied.  However,  he  wit- 
nessed the  heaving  arrival  of  the  lifeboat  and 
the  disembarking  of  the  rescued  crew  of  the 
Norwegian  barque,  and  he  was  more  than  ever 
decided  to  compose  a  descriptive  article  for  the 
Staffordshire  Signal.  The  rescued  and  the  res- 
cuing crews  disappeared  in  single  file  to  the 
upper  floor  of  the  pier,  with  the  exception  of 
the  coxswain,  a  man  with  a  spreading  red  beard, 
who  stayed  behind  to  inspect  the  lifeboat,  of 
which  indeed  he  was  the  absolute  owner.  As  a 
journalist  Denry  did  the  correct  thing  and  en- 
gaged him  in  conversation.  Meanwhile,  cheering 
could  be  heard  above.  The  coxswain,  who  stated 
that  his  name  was  Cregeen  and  that  he  was  a 
Manxman,  seemed  to  regret  the  entire  expedi- 


Wrecking  of  a  Life  loi 

tion.  He  seemed  to  be  unaware  that  it  was  his 
duty  now  to  play  the  part  of  the  modest  hero 
to  Denry's  interviewer.  At  every  loose  end  of 
the  chat  he  would  say  gloomily : 

"  And  look  at  her  now,  I  'm  telling  ye !  " 

Meaning  the  battered  craft,  which  rose  and 
fell  on  the  black  waves. 

Denry  ran  upstairs  again,  in  search  of  more 
amenable  material.  Some  twenty  men  in  vari- 
ous sou'westers  and  other  headgear  were  eating 
thick  slices  of  bread  and  butter  and  drinking  hot 
coffee,  which  with  foresight  had  been  prepared 
for  them  in  the  pier  buffet.  A  few  had  pre- 
ferred whiskey.  The  whole  crowd  was  now  un- 
der the  lee  of  the  pavilion,  and  it  constituted  a 
spectacle  which  Denry  said  to  himself  he  should 
refer  to  in  his  article  as  "  Rembrandtesque." 
For  a  few  moments  he  could  not  descry  Ruth 
and  Nellie  in  the  gloom.  Then  he  saw  the  in- 
dubitable form  of  his  betrothed  at  a  penny-in- 
the-slot  machine,  and  the  indubitable  form  of 
Nellie  at  another  penny-in-the-slot  machine.  And 
then  he  could  hear  the  click-click-click  of  the 
machines,  working  rapidly.  And  his  thoughts 
took  a  new  direction. 

Presently  Ruth  ran  with  blithe  gracefulness 
from  her  machine  and  commenced  a  generous 
distribution  of  packets  to  the  members  of  the 
crews.  There  was  neither  calculation  nor  ex- 
act  justice    in    her    generosity.      She   dropped 


102  Denry  the  Audacious 

packets  on  to  heroic  knees  with  a  splendid  ges- 
ture of  largesse.  Some  packets  even  fell  on  the 
floor.     But  she  did  not  mind. 

Denry  could  hear  her  saying: 

"  You  must  eat  it.  Chocolate  is  so  sustaining. 
There  's  nothing  like  it." 

She  ran  back  to  the  machines,  and  snatched 
more  packets  from  Nellie,  who  under  her  orders 
had  been  industrious;  and  then  began  a  second 
distribution. 

A  calm  and  disinterested  observer  would  prob- 
ably have  been  touched  by  this  spectacle  of  im- 
pulsive womanly  charity.  He  might  even  have 
decided  that  it  was  one  of  the  most  beautifully 
human  things  that  he  had  ever  seen.  And  the 
fact  that  the  hardy  heroes  and  Norsemen  ap- 
peared scarcely  to  know  what  to  do  with  tlie 
silver-WTapped  bonbons  would  not  have  impaired 
his  admiration  for  these  two  girlish  figures  of 
benevolence.  Denry,  too,  was  touched  by  the 
spectacle,  but  in  another  way.  It  was  the  rents 
of  his  clients  that  were  being  thus  dissipated 
in  a  very  luxury  of  needless  benevolence.  He 
muttered : 

"  Well,  that 's  a  bit  thick,  that  is!  " 

But  of  course  he  could  do  nothing. 

As  the  process  continued,  the  clicking  of  the 
machines  exacerbated  his  ears. 

"  Idiotic  I  "  he  muttered. 

The  final  annoyance  to  him  was  that  every- 


Wrecking  of  a  Life  103 

body  except  himself  seemed  to  consider  that 
Ruth  was  displaying  singular  ingenuity,  origin- 
ality, enterprise,  and  goodness  of  heart. 

In  that  moment  he  saw  clearly  for  the  first 
time  that  the  marriage  between  himself  and 
Ruth  had  not  been  arranged  in  heaven.  He  ad- 
mitted privately  then  that  the  saving  of  a  young 
woman  from  violent  death  in  a  pantechnicon 
need  not  inevitably  involve  espousing  her.  She 
was  without  doubt  a  marvellous  creature,  but 
it  was  as  wise  to  dream  of  keeping  a  carriage 
and  pair  as  to  dream  of  keeping  Ruth.  He  grew 
suddenly  cynical.  His  age  leaped  to  fifty  or  so, 
and  the  curve  of  his  lips  changed. 

Ruth,  spying  around,  saw  him  and  ran  to 
him  with  a  glad  cry. 

"  Here !  "  she  said.  "  Take  these.  They  're  no 
good."     She  held  out  her  hands. 

"  What  are  they?  "  he  asked. 

"  They  're  the  halfpennies." 

"  So  sorry !  "  he  said,  with  an  accent  whose  sig- 
nificance escaped  her,  and  took  the  useless  coins. 

"  We  've  exhausted  all  the  chocolate,"  said  she. 
"  But  there  's  butterscotch  left — it 's  nearly  as 
good — and  gold-tipped  cigarettes.  I  dare  say 
some  of  them  would  enjoy  a  smoke.  Have  you 
got  any  more  pennies?" 

"  No !  "  he  replied.  "  But  I  've  got  ten  or  a 
dozen  half-crowns.  "  They  '11  work  the  machine 
just  as  well,  won't  they?  " 


104  Denry  the  Audacious 

Til  is  time  she  did  notice  a  certain  unusualness 
in  the  flavour  of  his  accent.     And  she  hesitated. 

"  Don't  be  silly !  "  she  said. 

"  I  '11  try  not  to  be,"  said  Denry.  So  far  as  he 
could  remember,  he  had  never  used  such  a  tone 
before.     Ruth  swerved  away  to  rejoin  Nellie. 

Denry  surreptitiously  counted  the  half- 
pennies. There  were  eighteen.  She  had  fed 
those  machines,  then,  with  over  a  hundred  and 
thirty  pence. 

He  murmured,  "  Thick,  thick !  " 

Considering  that  he  had  returned  to  Llan- 
dudno in  the  full  intention  of  putting  his  foot 
down,  of  clearly  conveying  to  Ruth  that  his 
conception  of  finance  differed  from  hers,  the 
second  sojourn  had  commenced  badly.  Still,  he 
had  promised  to  marry  her,  and  he  must  marry 
her.  Better  a  lifetime  of  misery  and  insolvency 
than  a  failure  to  behave  as  a  gentleman  should. 
Of  course,  if  she  chose  to  break  it  off  .  .  .  But 
he  must  be  minutely  careful  to  do  nothing  which 
might  lead  to  a  breach.     Such  was  Denry's  code. 

The  walk  home  at  midnight,  amid  the  rever- 
berations of  the  falling  tempest,  was  marked  by 
a  slight  pettishness  on  the  part  of  Ruth,  and 
by  Denry's  polite  taciturnity. 

V 

Yet  the  next  morning,  as  the  three  compan- 


Wrecking  of  a  Life  105 

ions  sat  together  under  the  striped  awning  of 
the  buffet  on  the  pier,  nobody  could  have  di- 
vined, by  looking  at  them,  that  one  of  them  at 
any  rate  was  the  most  uncomfortable  young  man 
in  all  Llandudno.  The  sun  was  hotly  shining 
on  their  bright  attire  and  on  the  still  turbulent 
waves.  Ruth,  thirsty  after  a  breakfast  of  her- 
rings and  bacon,  was  sucking  iced  lemonade  up 
a  straw.  Nellie  was  eating  chocolate,  undis- 
tributed remains  of  the  night's  benevolence. 
Denry  was  yawning,  not  in  the  least  because 
the  proceedings  failed  to  excite  his  keen  inter- 
est, but  because  he  had  been  a  journalist  till 
three  a.m.  and  had  risen  at  six  in  order  to 
despatch  a  communication  to  the  editor  of  the 
Staffordshire  Signal  by  train. 

The  girls  were  very  playful.  Nellie  dropped 
a  piece  of  chocolate  into  Ruth's  glass,  and  Ruth 
fished  it  out,  and  bit  at  it. 

"  What  a  jolly  taste !  "  she  exclaimed. 

And  then  Nellie  bit  at  it. 

<^  Oh !     It 's  just  lovely !  "  said  Nellie  softly. 

"  Here,  dear !  "  said  Ruth.     "  Try  it." 

And  Denry  had  to  try  it,  and  to  pronounce 
it  a  delicious  novelty  (which  indeed  it  was)  and 
generally  to  brighten  himself  up.  And  all  the 
time  he  was  murmuring  in  his  heart,  "  This  can't 
go  on." 

Nevertheless  he  was  obliged  to  admit  that  it 
was  he  who  had  invited  Ruth  to  pass  the  rest 


io6  Denry  the  Audacious 

of  her  earthly  life  with  him,  and  not  vice 
versa. 

"  Well,  shall  we  go  on  somewhere  else?  "  Ruth 
suggested. 

And  he  paid  yet  again.  He  paid  and  smiled, 
he  who  had  meant  to  be  the  masterful  male, 
he  who  deemed  himself  always  equal  to  a  crisis. 
But  in  this  crisis  he  was  helpless. 

They  set  off  down  the  pier,  brilliant  in  the 
brilliant  crowd.  Everybody  was  talking  of 
wrecks  and  lifeboats.  The  new  lifeboat  had 
done  nothing,  having  been  forestalled  by  the 
Prestatyn  boat;  but  Llandudno  was  apparently 
very  proud  of  its  brave  old  worn-out  lifeboat 
which  had  brought  ashore  the  entire  crew  of 
the  Ejalmar,  without  casualty,  in  a  terrific 
hurricane. 

"  Run  along,  child,"  said  Ruth  to  Nellie, 
"  while  uncle  and  auntie  talk  to  each  other  for 
a  minute." 

Nellie  stared,  blushed,  and  walked  forward  in 
confusion.  She  was  startled.  And  Denry  was 
equally  startled.  Never  before  had  Ruth  so 
brazenly  hinted  that  lovers  must  be  left  alone 
at  intervals.  In  justice  to  her  it  must  be  said 
that  she  was  a  mirror  for  all  the  proprieties. 
Denry  had  even  reproached  her,  in  his  heart,  for 
not  sufficiently  showing  her  desire  for  his  exclu- 
sive society.  He  wondered,  now,  what  was  to  be 
the  next  revelation  of  her  surprising  character. 


Wrecking  of  a  Life  107 

"  I  had  our  bill  this  morning,"  said  Ruth. 

She  leaned  gracefully  on  the  handle  of  her 
sunshade,  and  they  both  stared  at  the  sea.  She 
was  very  elegant,  with  an  aristocratic  air.  The 
bill,  as  she  mentioned  it,  seemed  a  very  negligi- 
ble trifle.     Nevertheless,  Denry's  heart  quaked. 

"  Oh !  "  he  said.     "  Did  you  pay  it?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  she.  "  The  landlady  wanted  the 
money,  she  told  me.  So  Nellie  gave  me  her  share, 
and  I  paid  it  at  once." 

"  Oh !  "  said  Denry. 

There  was  a  silence.  Denry  felt  as  though 
he  were  defending  a  castle,  or  as  though  he  were 
in  a  dark  room  and  somebody  was  calling  him, 
calling  him,  and  he  was  pretending  not  to  be 
there  and  holding  his  breath. 

"  But  I  'd  hardly  enough  money  left,"  said 
Ruth.  "  The  fact  is,  Nellie  and  I  spent  such  a 
lot  yesterday  and  the  day  before.  .  .  .  You  've 
no  idea  how  money  goes ! " 

"Haven't  I?"  said  Denry.  But  not  to  her 
— only  to  his  own  heart. 

To  her  he  said  nothing. 

"  I  suppose  we  shall  have  to  go  back  home," 
she  ventured  lightly.  "  One  can't  run  into  debt 
here.     They  'd  claim  your  luggage." 

"What  a  pity!"  said  Denry  sadly. 

Just  those  few  words — and  the  interesting 
part  of  the  interview  was  over!  All  that  fol- 
lowed counted  not  in  the  least.     She  had  meant 


io8  Denry  the  Audacious 

to  induce  him  to  offer  to  defray  the  whole  of 
her  expenses  in  Llandudno — no  doubt  in  the 
form  of  a  loan;  and  she  had  failed.  She  had 
intended  him  to  repair  the  disaster  caused  by 
her  chronic  extravagance.  And  he  had  only 
said,  "  What  a  pity !  " 

"  Yes,  it  is ! "  she  agreed  bravely,  and  with 
a  finer  disdain  than  ever  of  petty  financial 
troubles.     "  Still,  it  can't  be  helped." 

"  No,  I  suppose  not,"  said  Denry. 

There  was  undoubtedly  something  fine  about 
Ruth.  In  that  moment  she  had  it  in  her  to  kill 
Denry  with  a  bodkin.  But  she  merely  smiled. 
The  situation  was  terribly  strained,  past  all 
Denry's  previous  conceptions  of  a  strained  situa- 
tion ;  but  she  deviated  with  superlative  sang-froid 
into  frothy  small-talk.  A  proud  and  an  uncon- 
querable woman !  After  all,  what  were  men  for, 
if  not  to  pay? 

"  I  think  I  shall  go  home  to-night,"  she  said, 
after  the  excursion  into  prattle. 

"  I  'm  sorry,"  said  Denry. 

He  was  not  coming  out  of  his  castle. 

At  that  moment  a  hand  touched  his  shoulder. 
It  was  the  hand  of  Cregeen,  the  owner  of  the 
old  lifeboat. 

"Mister!"  said  Cregeen,  too  absorbed  in  his 
own  welfare  to  notice  Ruth.  "  It 's  now  or  never ! 
Five-and-twenty  '11  buy  the  Fleetwing,  if  ten  's 
paid  down  this  mornun." 


Wrecking  of  a  Life  109 

And  Denry  replied  boldly: 

"  You  shall  have  it  in  an  hour.  Where  shall 
you  be? " 

"  I  '11  be  in  John's  cabin,  under  the  pier,"  said 
Cregeen,  "  where  ye  found  me  this  mornun." 

"  Right!  "  said  Denry. 

If  Ruth  had  not  been  caracoling  on  her  ab- 
surdly high  horse,  she  would  have  had  the  truth 
out  of  Denry  in  a  moment  concerning  these  early 
morning  interviews  and  mysterious  transactions 
in  shipping.  But  from  that  height  she  could 
not  deign  to  be  curious.  And  so  she  said  naught. 
Denry  had  passed  the  whole  morning  since 
breakfast  and  had  uttered  no  word  of  pre- 
prandial  encounters  with  mariners,  though  he 
had  talked  a  lot  about  his  article  for  the  Signal 
and  of  how  he  had  risen  betimes  in  order  to 
despatch  it  by  the  first  train. 

And  as  Ruth  showed  no  curiosity,  Denry  be- 
haved on  tlie  assumption  that  she  felt  none. 
And  the  situation  grew  even  more  strained. 

As  they  walked  down  the  pier  towards  the 
beach,  at  the  dinner-hour,  Ruth  bowed  to  a 
dandiacal  man  who  obsequiously  saluted  her. 

"  Who  's  that?  "  asked  Denry  instinctively. 

"  It 's  a  gentleman  that  I  was  once  engaged 
to,"  answered  Ruth  with  cold,  brief  politeness. 

Denry  did  not  like  this. 

The  situation  almost  creaked  under  the  com- 
plicated stresses  to  which  it  was  subject.     And 


no  Denry  the  Audacious 

the  wonder  was  that  it  did  not  fly  to  pieces  long 
before  evening. 


VI 


The  pride  of  the  principal  actors  being  now 
engaged,  each  person  was  compelled  to  carry 
out  the  intentions  which  he  had  expressed  either 
in  words  or  tacitly.  Denry's  silence  had  an- 
nounced more  efficiently  than  any  words  that 
he  would  under  no  inducement  emerge  from  his 
castle.  Kuth  had  stated  plainly  that  there  was 
nothing  for  it  but  to  go  home  at  once,  that  very 
night.  Hence  she  arranged  to  go  home,  and 
hence  Denry  refrained  from  interfering  with  her 
arrangements.  Kuth  was  lugubrious  under  a 
mask  of  gaiety;  Nellie  was  lugubrious  under  no 
mask  whatever.  Nellie  was  merely  the  puppet 
of  these  betrothed  players,  her  elders.  She  ad- 
mired Ruth  and  she  admired  Denry,  and  be- 
tween them  they  were  spoiling  the  little  thing's 
holiday  for  their  own  adult  purposes.  NeUie 
knew  that  dreadful  occurrences  were  in  the  air 
— occurrences  compared  to  which  the  storm  at 
sea  was  a  storm  in  a  teacup.  She  knew  partly 
because  Ruth  had  been  so  queerly  polite,  and 
partly  because  they  had  come  separately  to  St. 
Asaph's  Road  and  had  not  spent  the  entire 
afternoon  together. 

So  quickly  do  great  events  loom  up  and  happen 


Wrecking  of  a  Life  iii 

that  at  six  o'clock  they  had  had  tea  and  were 
on  their  way  afoot  to  the  station.  The  odd  man 
of  No.  26,  St.  Asaph's  Road  had  preceded  them 
with  the  luggage.  All  the  rest  of  Llandudno 
was  joyously  strolling  home  to  its  half-past  six 
high  tea — grand  people  to  whom  weekly  bills 
were  as  dust  and  who  were  in  a  position  to 
stop  in  Llandudno  for  ever  and  ever,  if  they 
chose!  And  Euth  and  Nellie  were  conscious  of 
the  shame  which  always  afflicts  those  whom 
necessity  forces  to  the  railway  station  of  a  pleas- 
ure resort  in  the  middle  of  the  season.  They 
saw  omnibuses  loaded  with  luggage  and  jolly 
souls  who  were  actually  coming,  whose  holiday 
had  not  yet  properly  commenced.  And  this 
spectacle  added  to  their  humiliation  and  their 
disgust.  They  genuinely  felt  that  they  belonged 
to  the  lower  orders. 

Ruth,  for  the  sake  of  effect,  joked  on  the  most 
solemn  subjects.  She  even  referred  with  gig- 
gling laughter  to  the  fact  that  she  had  borrowed 
from  Nellie  in  order  to  discharge  her  liabilities 
for  the  final  twenty-four  hours  at  the  boarding- 
house.  Giggling  laughter  being  contagious,  as 
they  were  walking  side  by  side  close  together, 
they  all  laughed.  And  each  one  secretly 
thought  how  ridiculous  was  such  behaviour 
and  liow  it  failed  to  reach  the  standard  of  true 
worldliness. 

Then,    nearer    the    station,    some    sprightly 


112  Denry  the  Audacious 

caprice  prompted  Denry  to  raise  his  hat  to  two 
young  women  who  were  crossing  the  road  in 
front  of  them.  Neither  of  the  two  young  women 
responded  to  the  homage. 

"  Who  are  they?  "  asked  Ruth,  and  the  words 
were  out  of  her  mouth  before  she  could  remind 
herself  that  curiosity  was  beneath  her. 

"  It 's  a  young  lady  I  was  once  engaged  to," 
said  Denry. 

"  Which  one? "  asked  the  ninny,  Nellie, 
astounded. 

"  I  forget,"  said  Denry. 

He  considered  this  to  be  one  of  his  greatest 
retorts — not  to  Nellie,  but  to  Ruth.  Nellie  nat- 
urally did  not  appreciate  its  loveliness.  But 
Ruth  did.  There  was  no  facet  of  that  retort 
that  escaped  Ruth's  critical  notice. 

At  length  they  arrived  at  the  station,  quite  a 
quarter  of  an  hour  before  the  train  was  due, 
and  half  an  hour  before  it  came  in. 

Denry  tipped  the  odd  man  for  the  transport 
of  the  luggage. 

"  Sure  it 's  all  there? "  he  asked  the  girls, 
embracing  both  of  them  in  his  gaze. 

"  Yes,"  said  Ruth,  "  but  where  's  yours?  " 

"  Oh !  "  he  said.  "  I  'm  not  going  to-night. 
I  've  got  some  business  to  attend  to  here.  I 
thought  you  understood.  I  expect  you  '11  be  all 
right,  you  two  together." 

After  a  moment,   Ruth  said  brightly,  "Oh, 


Wrecking  of  a  Life  1 13 

yes!  I  was  quite  forgetting  about  your  busi- 
ness." Which  was  completely  untrue,  since  she 
knew  nothing  of  his  business,  and  he  had  as- 
suredly not  informed  her  that  he  would  not 
return  with  them. 

But  Ruth  was  being  very  brave,  haughty,  and 
queen-like,  and  for  this  the  precise  truth  must 
sometimes  be  abandoned.  The  most  precious 
thing  in  the  world  to  Ruth  was  her  dignity — 
and  who  can  blame  her?  She  meant  to  keep  it 
at  no  matter  what  costs. 

In  a  few  minutes  the  bookstall  on  the  plat- 
form attracted  them  as  inevitably  as  a  prone 
horse  attracts  a  crowd.  Other  people  were  near 
the  bookstall,  and  as  these  people  were  obviously 
leaving  Llandudno,  Ruth  and  Nellie  felt  a  cer- 
tain solace.  The  social  outlook  seemed  brighter 
for  them.  Denry  bought  one  or  two  penny 
papers,  and  then  the  newsboy  began  to  paste 
up  the  contents  poster  of  the  Staffordshire 
Signal,  which  had  just  arrived.  And  on  this 
poster,  very  prominent,  were  the  words :  "  The 
Great  Storm  in  North  Wales.  Special  Descrip- 
tive Report."  Denry  snatched  up  one  of  the 
green  papers  and  opened  it,  and  on  the  first 
column  of  the  news  page  saw  his  wondrous  de- 
scription, including  the  word  "Rembrandtesque." 
"  Graphic  account  by  a  Bursley  gentleman  of 
the  scene  at  Llandudno,"  said  the  sub-title.  And 
the  article  was  introduced  by  the  phrase,  "  We 


114  Denry  the  Audacious 

are  indebted  to  Mr.  E.  H.  Machin,  a  prominent 
figure  in  Bursley,"  etc. 

It  was  like  a  miracle.  Do  what  he  would, 
Denry  could  not  stop  his  face  from  glowing. 

With  false  calm  be  gave  the  paper  to 
Ruth.  Her  calmness  in  receiving  it  upset 
him. 

"  We  '11  read  it  in  the  train,"  she  said  primly, 
and  started  to  talk  about  something  else.  And 
she  became  most  agreeable  and  companionable. 

Mixed  up  with  papers  and  sixpenny  novels  on 
the  bookstall  were  a  number  of  souvenirs  of 
Llandudno — paper-knives,  pens,  paper-weights, 
watch-cases,  pen-cases,  all  in  light  wood  or  glass, 
and  ornamented  with  coloured  views  of  Llan- 
dudno, and  also  the  word  "  Llandudno  "  in  large 
German  capitals,  so  that  mistakes  might  not 
arise.  Ruth  remembered  that  she  had  even  in- 
tended to  buy  a  crystal  paper-weight  with  a 
view  of  the  Great  Orme  at  the  bottom.  The 
bookstall  clerk  had  several  crystal  paper-weights 
with  views  of  the  pier,  the  Hotel  Majestic,  the 
Esplanade,  the  Happy  Valley,  but  none  with  a 
view  of  the  Great  Orme.  He  had  also  paper- 
knives  and  watch-cases  with  a  view  of  the  Great 
Orme.  But  Ruth  wanted  a  combination  of 
paper-weight  and  Great  Orme,  and  nothing  else 
would  satisfy  her.  She  was  like  that.  The  clerk 
admitted  that  such  a  combination  existed,  but 
he  was  sold  "  out  of  it." 


Wrecking  of  a  Life  115 

'*  Could  n't  you  get  one  and  send  it  to  me?  " 
said  Ruth. 

And  Denry  saw  anew  that  she  was  incurable. 

"  Oh,  yes,  miss,"  said  the  clerk.  "  Certainly, 
miss.  To-morrow  at  latest ! "  And  he  pulled 
out  a  book.     "  What  name?  " 

Ruth  looked  at  Denry,  as  women  do  look  on 
such  occasions. 

"  Rothschild,"  said  Denry. 

It  may  seem  perhaps  strange  that  that  single 
word  ended  their  engagement.  But  it  did.  She 
could  not  tolerate  a  rebuke.  She  walked  away, 
flushing.  The  bookstall  clerk  received  no  order. 
Several  persons  in  the  vicinity  dimly  perceived 
that  a  domestic  scene  had  occurred,  in  a  flash, 
under  their  noses,  on  a  platform  of  a  railway 
station.  Nellie  was  speedily  aware  that  some- 
thing very  serious  had  happened,  for  the  train 
took  them  off  without  Ruth  speaking  a  syllable 
to  Denry,  though  Denry  raised  his  hat  and  was 
almost  ejffusive. 

The  next  afternoon  Denry  received  by  post  a 
ring  in  a  box.  "  I  will  not  submit  to  insult," 
ran  the  brief  letter. 

"  I  only  said  '  Rothschild  ' !  "  Denry  murmured 
to  liimself.     "  Can't  a  fellow  say  '  Rothschild  '?  " 

But  secretly  he  was  proud  of  himself. 


CHAPTER  V.  THE  MERCANTILE  MARINE 


The  decisive  scene,  henceforward  historic, 
occurred  in  the  shanty  known  as  "  John's  cabin  " 
— John  being  the  unacknowledged  leader  of  the 
'longshore  population — under  the  tail  of  Llan- 
dudno pier.  The  cabin,  festooned  with  cordage, 
was  lighted  by  an  oil-lamp  of  a  primitive  model, 
and  round  the  orange  case  on  which  the  lamp 
was  balanced  sat  Denry,  Cregeen,  the  owner  of 
the  lifeboat,  and  John  himself  (to  give,  as  it 
were,  a  semi-official  character  to  whatever  was 
afoot). 

"  Well,  here  you  are,"  said  Denry,  and  handed 
to  Cregeen  a  piece  of  paper. 

"  What 's  this,  I  'm  asking  ye,"  said  Cregeen, 
taking  the  paper  in  his  large  fingers  and  peering 
at  it  as  though  it  had  been  a  papyrus. 

But  he  knew  quite  well  what  it  was.  It  was 
a  check  for  twenty-five  pounds.  What  he  did 
not  know  was  that,  with  the  ten  pounds  paid  in 
cash  earlier  in  the  day,  it  represented  a  very 
large  part  indeed  of  such  of  Denry's  savings 
as  had  survived  his  engagement  to  Ruth  Earp. 

Ii6 


The  Mercantile  Marine  117 

Cregeen  took  a  pen  as  though  it  had  been  a 
match-end  and  wrote  a  receipt.  Then,  after 
finding  a  stamp  in  a  pocket  of  his  waistcoat 
under  his  jersey,  he  put  it  in  his  mouth  and 
lost  it  there  for  a  long  time.  Finally  Denry 
got  the  receipt,  certifying  that  he  was  the  owner 
of  the  lifeboat  formerly  known  as  Llandudno, 
but  momentarily  without  a  name,  together  with 
all  her  gear  and  sails. 

"  Are  ye  going  to  live  in  her? "  the  rather 
eurt  John  enquired. 

"  Not  in  her.     On  her,"  said  Denry. 

And  he  went  out  on  to  the  sand  and  shingle, 
leaving  John  and  Cregeen  to  complete  the  sale 
to  Cregeen  of  the  Fleetw'mg,  a  small  cutter  spe- 
cially designed  to  take  twelve  persons  forth  for 
"  a  pleasant  sail  in  the  bay."  If  Cregeen  had 
not  had  a  fancy  for  the  Fleetwing  and  a  perfect 
lack  of  the  money  to  buy  her,  Denry  might 
never  have  been  able  to  induce  him  to  sell  the 
lifeboat. 

Under  another  portion  of  the  pier  Denry 
met  a  sailor  with  a  long  white  beard,  the  aged 
Simeon,  who  had  been  one  of  the  crew  that 
rescued  the  Ejalmar,  but  whom  his  colleagues 
appeared  to  regard  rather  as  an  ornament  than 
as  a  motive  force. 

"  It 's  all  right,"  said  Denry. 

And  Simeon,  in  silence,  nodded  his  head 
slowly  several  times. 


ii8  Denry  the  Audacious 

"  I  shall  give  you  thirty  shillings  for  the 
week,"  said  Denry. 

And  that  venerable  head  oscillated  again  in 
the  moon-lit  gloom  and  rocked  gradually  to  a 
standstill. 

Presently  the  head  said,  in  shrill,  slow  tones : 

"  I  've  seen  three  o'  them  Norwegian  chaps. 
Two  of  'em  can  no  more  speak  English  than 
a  babe  unborn;  no,  nor  understand  what  ye 
say  to  'em,  though  I  fair  bawled  in  their 
ear-holes." 

"  So  much  the  better,"  said  Denry. 

"  I  showed  'em  that  sovereign,"  said  the 
bearded  head,  wagging  again. 

"  Well,"  said  Denry,  "  you  won't  forget.  Six 
o'clock  to-morrow  morning." 

"  Ye  'd  better  say  five,"  the  head  suggested. 
"Quieter  like!" 

"  Five,  then,"  Denry  agreed. 

And  he  departed  to  St.  Asaph's  Eoad  bur- 
dened with  a  tremendous  thought. 

The  thought  was: 

"  I  've  gone  and  done  it  this  time! '' 

Now  that  the  transaction  was  accomplished 
and  could  not  be  undone,  he  admitted  to  himself 
that  he  had  never  been  more  mad.  He  could 
scarcely  comprehend  what  had  led  him  to  do 
that  which  he  had  done.  But  he  obscurely 
imagined  that  his  caprice  for  the  possession  of 
sea-going  craft  must  somehow  be  the  result  of 


The  Mercantile  Marine  119 

his  singular  adventure  with  the  pantechnicon  in 
the  canal  at  Bursley. 

He  was  so  preoccupied  with  material  interests 
as  to  be  capable  of  forgetting,  for  a  quarter  of  an 
hour  at  a  stretch,  that  in  all  essential  respects 
his  life  was  wrecked,  and  that  he  had  nothing 
to  hope  for  save  hollow  worldly  success.  He 
knew  that  Ruth  would  return  the  ring.  He 
could  almost  see  the  postman  holding  the  little 
cardboard  cube  which  would  contain  the  ren- 
dered ring.  He  had  loved,  and  loved  tragically. 
(That  was  how  he  put  it — in  his  unspoken 
thoughts;  but  the  truth  was  merely  that  he  had 
loved  something  too  expensive.)  Now  the  dream 
was  done.  And  a  man  of  disillusion  walked 
along  the  Parade  towards  St.  Asaph's  Road 
among  revellers,  a  man  with  a  past,  a  man  who 
had  probed  women,  a  man  who  had  nothing  to 
learn  about  sex.  And  amid  all  the  tragedy  of 
his  heart,  and  all  his  apprehensions  concerning 
hollow  worldly  success,  little  thoughts  of  absurd 
unimportance  kept  running  about  like  clock- 
work mice  in  his  head.  Such  as  that  it  would 
be  a  bit  of  a  bore  to  have  to  tell  people  at 
Bursley  that  his  engagement,  which  truly  had 
thrilled  the  town,  was  broken  off.  Humiliating, 
that !  And,  after  all,  Ruth  was  a  glittering  gem 
among  women.  Was  there  another  girl  in  Burs- 
ley so  smart,  so  effective,  so  truly  ornate? 

Then  he  comforted  himself  with  the  reflection, 


120  Denry  the  Audacious 

"  I  'm  certainly  the  only  man  that  ever  put  an 
end  to  an  engagement  by  just  saying  '  Roths- 
child ' ! "  This  was  probably  true.  But  it  did 
not  help  him  to  sleep. 

II 

The  next  morning  at  5:20  the  youthful  sun 
was  shining  on  the  choppy  water  of  the  Irish 
Sea,  just  off  the  Little  Orme,  to  the  west  of 
Llandudno  Bay.  Oscillating  on  the  uneasy 
waves  was  Denry's  lifeboat,  manned  by  the  nod- 
ding bearded  head,  three  ordinary  British  long- 
shoremen, a  Norwegian  who  could  speak  English 
of  two  syllables,  and  two  other  Norwegians  who 
by  a  strange  neglect  of  education  could  speak 
nothing  but  Norwegian. 

Close  under  the  headland,  near  a  morsel  of 
beach,  lay  the  remains  of  the  Hjalmar,  in  an 
attitude  of  repose.  It  was  as  if  the  Hjalmar, 
after  a  long  struggle,  had  lain  down  like  a  cab- 
horse  and  said  to  the  tempest,  "  Do  what  you 
like,  now ! " 

"  Yes,"  the  venerable  head  was  piping,  "  Us 
can  come  out  comfortable  in  twenty  minutes, 
unless  the  tide  be  setting  east  strong.  And  as 
for  getting  back,  it  '11  be  the  same,  other  way 
round,  if  ye  understand  me." 

There  could  be  no  question  that  Simeon  had 
come  out  comfortable.      But  he  was  the  cox- 


The  Mercantile  Marine  121 

swain.  The  rowers  seemed  to  be  aware  that  the 
boat  was  vast  and  beamy. 

"  Shall  we  row  up  to  it?  "  Simeon  inquired, 
pointing  to  the  wreck. 

Then  a  pale  face  appeared  above  the  gunwale, 
and  an  expiring,  imploring  voice  said: 

"  No.  We  '11  go  back."  Whereupon  the  pale 
face  vanished  again. 

Denry  had  never  before  been  outside  ihe  bay. 
In  the  navigation  of  pantechnicons  on  the  squall- 
swept  basins  of  canals  he  might  have  been  a 
great  master,  but  he  was  unfitted  for  the  open 
sea.  At  that  moment  he  would  have  been  almost 
ready  to  give  the  lifeboat  and  all  that  he  owned 
for  the  privilege  of  returning  to  land  by  train. 
The  inward  journey  was  so  long  that  Denry  lost 
hope  of  ever  touching  his  native  island  again. 
And  then  there  was  a  bump.  And  he  disem- 
barked, with  hope  burning  up  again  cheerfully 
in  his  bosom.     And  it  was  a  quarter  to  six. 

By  the  first  post,  which  arrived  at  half-past 
seven,  there  came  a  brown  package.  "  The 
ring!"  he  thought,  starting  horribly.  But  the 
package  was  a  cube  of  three  inches,  and  would 
have  held  a  hundred  rings.  He  undid  the  cover, 
and  saw  on  half  a  sheet  of  note-paper  the  words, 
"  Thank  you  so  much  for  the  lovely  time  you 
gave  me.     I  hope  you  will  like  this.     Nellie." 

He  was  touched.  If  Ruth  was  hard,  mercen- 
ary, costly,  her  young  and  ingenuous  companion 


122  Denry  the  Audacious 

could  at  any  rate  be  grateful  and  sympathetic. 
Yes,  he  was  touched.  He  had  imagined  himself 
to  be  dead  to  all  human  affections,  but  it  was 
not  so.  The  package  contained  chocolate,  and 
his  nose  at  once  perceived  that  it  was  chocolate 
impregnated  with  lemon — the  surprising  but 
agreeable  compound  accidentally  invented  by 
Nellie  on  the  previous  day  at  the  pier  buffet. 
The  little  thing  must  have  spent  a  part  of  the 
previous  afternoon  in  preparing  it,  and  she  must 
have  put  the  package  in  the  post  at  Crewe. 
Secretive  and  delightful  little  thing!  After  his 
recent  experience  beyond  the  bay  he  had  im- 
agined himself  to  be  incapable  of  ever  eating 
again,  but  it  was  not  so.  The  lemon  gave  a 
peculiar  astringent,  appetising,  settling  quality 
to  the  chocolate.  And  he  ate  even  with  gusto. 
The  result  was  that,  instead  of  waiting  for  the 
nine  o'clock  boarding-house  breakfast,  he  hurried 
energetically  into  the  streets  and  called  on  a 
jobbing  printer  whom  he  had  seen  on  the  pre- 
vious evening.  As  Ruth  had  said  on  the  night 
of  the  wreck — there  is  nothing  like  chocolate  for 
sustaining  you. 

Ill 

At  ten  o'clock  two  Norwegian  sailors,  who 
could  only  smile  in  answer  to  the  questions 
which  assailed  them,  were  distributing  the  fol- 
lowing handbill  on  the  Parade: 


The  Mercantile  Marine  123 

WRECK   OF  THE  "  HJALMAR." 


HEROISM    AT    LLANDUDNO. 


Every  hour,  at  11,  12,  2,  3,  4,  5,  and  6  o'clock, 

THE  IDENTICAL   (guaranteed)    lifeboat 

which  rescued  the  crew  of  the 

"HJALMAR" 

will  leave  the  beach  for  the  scene  of  the  wreck. 


Manned  by  Simeon  Edwards,  the  oldest  boatman 

in  LLANDUDNO,  and  by  members  of  the  rescued 

crew,  genuine  Norwegians  (guaranteed). 


SIMEON   EDWARDS,   COXSWAIN. 

Return  fare,  with  use  of  cork  belt  and  life  lines 
if  desired,  2s.  6d. 


A  UNIQUE  OPPORTUNITY. 

A   UNIQUE  EXPERIENCE. 


P.S. — The  bravery  of  the  lifeboatmen  has  been 
the  theme  of  the  Press  throughout  the  Principal- 
ity and  neighbouring  counties. 

E.  D.  Machin. 


At  eleven  o'clock  there  was  an  eager  crowd 
down  on  the  beach,  where,  with  some  planks 
and  a  piece  of  rock,  Simeon  had  arranged  an 
embarkation  pier  for  the  lifeboat.  One  man,  in 
overalls,  stood  up  to  his  knees  in  the  water  and 


124  Denry  the  Audacious 

escorted  passengers  up  the  planks,  while  Sim- 
eon's confidence-generating  beard  received  them 
into  the  broad  waist  of  the  boat.  The  rowers 
wore  sou'westers  and  were  secured  to  the  craft 
by  life-lines,  and  these  conveniences  were  also 
offered,  with  life-belts,  to  the  intrepid  excur- 
sionists. A  paper  was  pinned  in  the  stern : 
"  Licensed  to  carry  fourteen."  (Denry  had  just 
paid  the  fee.)  But  quite  forty  people  were 
anxious  to  make  the  first  voyage. 

"  No  more !  "  shrilled  Simeon  solemnly.  And 
the  wader  scrambled  in  and  the  boat  slid  away. 

"  Fares  please !  "  shrilled  Simeon. 

He  collected  one  pound  fifteen,  and  slowly 
buttoned  it  up  in  the  right-hand  pocket  of  his 
blue  trousers. 

"  Now,  my  lads,  with  a  will ! "  he  gave  the 
orders.  And  then  with  deliberate  method  he 
lighted  his  pipe.     And  the  lifeboat  shot  away. 

Close  by  the  planks  stood  a  young  man  in  a 
negligent  attitude,  and  with  a  look  on  his  face 
as  if  to  say: 

"  Please  do  not  imagine  that  I  have  the  slight- 
est interest  in  this  affair."  He  stared  consist- 
ently out  to  sea  until  the  boat  had  disappeared 
round  the  Little  Orme,  and  then  he  took  a  few 
turns  on  the  sands,  in  and  out  amid  the  castles. 
His  heart  was  beating  in  a  most  disconcerting 
manner.  After  a  time  he  resumed  his  perusal 
of  the  sea.     And  the  lifeboat  reappeared  and 


The  Mercantile  Marine  125 

grew  larger  and  larger,  and  finally  arrived  at 
the  spot  from  which  it  had  departed,  only  higher 
up  the  beach  because  the  tide  was  rising.  And 
Simeon  debarked  first,  and  there  was  a  small 
blue  and  red  model  of  a  lifeboat  in  his  hand, 
which  he  shook  to  a  sound  of  coins. 

'^  For  the  Lifeboat  Fund!  For  the  Lifeboat 
Fund !  "  he  gravely  intoned. 

Every  debarking  passenger  dropped  a  coin 
into  the  slit. 

In  five  minutes  the  boat  was  refilled,  and 
Simeon  had  put  the  value  of  fourteen  more 
half-crowns  into  his  pocket. 

The  lips  of  the  young  man  on  the  beach  moved, 
and  he  murmured : 

"  That  makes  over  three  pounds  I  Well,  I  'm 
dashed !  " 

At  the  hour  appointed  for  dinner  he  went  to 
St.  Asaph's  Road,  but  could  eat  nothing.  He 
could  only  keep  repeating  very  softly  to  himself, 
"Well,  I'm  dashed!" 

Throughout  the  afternoon  the  competition  for 
places  in  the  lifeboat  grew  keener  and  more 
dangerous.  Denry's  craft  was  by  no  means  the 
sole  craft  engaged  in  carrying  people  to  see  the 
wreck.  There  were  dozens  of  boats  in  the  busi- 
ness, which  had  suddenly  sprung  up  that  morn- 
ing, the  sea  being  then  fairly  inoffensive  for  the 
first  time  since  the  height  of  the  storm.  But 
the  other  boats  simply  took  what  the  lifeboat 


126  Denry  the  Audacious 

left.  The  guaranteed  identity  of  the  lifeboat, 
and  of  the  Norsemen  (who  replied  to  questions 
in  gibberish),  and  of  Simeon  himself;  the  sou'- 
westers,  the  life-belts,  and  the  lines;  even  the 
collection  for  the  Lifeboat  Fund  at  the  close  of 
the  voyage:  all  these  matters  resolved  themselves 
into  a  fascination  which  Llandudno  could  not 
resist. 

And  in  regard  to  the  collection,  a  remarkable 
crisis  arose.  The  model  of  a  lifeboat  became 
full,  gorged  to  the  slot.  And  the  local  secretary 
of  the  Fund  had  the  key.  The  model  was  de- 
spatched to  him  by  special  messenger  to  open 
and  to  empty,  and  in  the  meantime  Simeon  used 
his  sou'-wester  as  a  collecting  box.  This  contre- 
temps was  impressive.  At  night  Denry  received 
twelve  pounds  odd  at  the  hands  of  Simeon  Ed- 
wards. He  showered  the  odd  in  largesse  on  his 
heroic  crew,  who  had  also  received  many  tips. 
By  the  evening  post  the  fatal  ring  arrived  from 
Ruth,  as  he  anticipated.  He  was  just  about  to 
throw  it  into  the  sea,  when  he  thought  better 
of  the  idea,  and  stuck  it  in  his  pocket.  He 
tried  still  to  feel  that  his  life  had  been  blighted 
by  Ruth.  But  he  could  not.  The  twelve  pounds, 
largely  in  silver,  weighed  so  heavy  in  his  pocket. 
He  said  to  himself: 

"  Of  course  this  can't  last ! " 


The  Mercantile  Marine  127 

IV 

Then  came  the  day  when  he  first  heard  some- 
one saying  discreetly  behind  him: 

"  That 's  the  lifeboat  chap !  " 

Or  more  briefly: 

"  That 's  him !  " 

Implying  that  in  all  Llandudno  "  him  "  could 
mean  only  one  person. 

And  for  a  time  he  went  about  the  streets 
self-consciously.  However,  that  self-conscious- 
ness soon  passed  off,  and  he  wore  his  fame  as 
easily  as  he  wore  his  collar. 

The  lifeboat  trips  to  the  Hjalmar  became  a 
feature  of  daily  life  in  Llandudno.  The  pro- 
nunciation of  the  ship's  name  went  through  a 
troublous  period.  Some  said  the  "  j  "  ought  to 
be  pronounced  to  the  exclusion  of  the  "  h,"  and 
others  maintained  the  contrary.  In  the  end  the 
first  two  letters  were  both  abandoned  utterly, 
also  the  last — but  nobody  had  ever  paid  any 
attention  to  the  last.  The  facetious  had  a  trick 
of  calling  the  wreck  "  Inkerman."  This  definite 
settlement  of  the  pronunciation  of  the  name  was 
a  sign  that  the  pleasure-seekers  of  Llandudno 
had  definitely  fallen  in  love  with  the  lifeboat  trip 
habit.  Denry's  timid  fear  that  the  phenomenon 
which  put  money  into  his  pocket  could  not  con- 
tinue was  quite  falsified.  It  continued  violently. 
And  Denry  wished  that  the  Hjalmar  had  been 


128  Denry  the  Audacious 

wrecked  a  month  earlier.  He  calculated  tbat 
the  tardiness  of  the  Hjalmar  in  wrecking  itself 
had  involved  him  in  a  loss  of  some  four  hun- 
dred pounds.  If  only  the  catastrophe  had  hap- 
pened early  in  July,  instead  of  early  in  August, 
and  he  had  been  there !  Why,  if  forty  Hjalmars 
had  been  wTecked,  and  then  forty  crews  saved 
by  forty  different  lifeboats,  and  Denry  had 
bought  all  the  lifeboats,  he  could  have  filled 
them  all! 

Still,  the  regularity  of  his  receipts  was  ex- 
tremely satisfactory  and  comforting.  The  thing 
had  somehow  the  air  of  being  a  miracle;  at  any 
rate  of  being  connected  with  magic.  It  seemed 
to  him  that  nothing  could  have  stopped  the 
visitors  to  Llandudno  from  fighting  for  places 
in  his  lifeboat  and  paying  handsomely  for  the 
privilege.  They  had  begun  the  practice,  and 
they  looked  as  if  they  meant  to  go  on  with 
the  practice  eternally.  He  thought  that  the 
monotony  of  it  would  strike  them  unfavourably. 
But  no!  He  thought  that  they  would  revolt 
against  doing  what  everyone  had  done.  But 
no!  Hundreds  of  persons  arrived  fresh  from 
the  railway  station  every  day,  and  they  all  ap- 
peared to  be  drawn  to  that  lifeboat  as  to  a 
magnet.  They  all  seemed  to  know  instantly  and 
instinctively  that  to  be  correct  in  Llandudno 
they  must  make  at  least  one  trip  in  Denry's 
lifeboat. 


The  Mercantile  Marine  129 

He  was  pocketing  an  income  wliicli  far  ex- 
ceeded his  most  golden  visions.  And  therefore 
naturally  his  first  idea  was  to  make  that  in- 
come larger  and  larger  still.  He  commenced  by 
putting  up  the  price  of  the  afternoon  trips. 
There  was  a  vast  deal  too  much  competition  for 
seats  in  the  afternoon.  This  competition  led  to 
quarrels,  unseemly  language,  and  deplorable  loss 
of  temper.  It  also  led  to  loss  of  time.  Denry 
was  therefore  benefiting  humanity  by  charging 
three  shillings  after  two  o'clock.  This  simple 
and  benign  device  equalised  the  competition 
throughout  the  day,  and  made  Denry  richer  by 
seven  or  eight  pounds  a  week. 

But  his  fertility  of  invention  did  not  stop 
there.  One  morning  the  earliest  excursionists 
saw  a  sort  of  Robinson  Crusoe  marooned  on  the 
strip  of  beach  near  the  wreck.  All  that  heart- 
less fate  had  left  him  appeared  to  be  a  machine 
on  a  tripod  and  a  few  black  bags.  And  there 
was  no  shelter  for  him  save  a  shallow  cave. 
The  poor  fellow  was  quite  respectably  dressed. 
Simeon  steered  the  boat  round  by  the  beach, 
which  shelved  down  sharply,  and  as  he  did  so 
the  Robinson  Crusoe  hid  his  head  in  a  cloth, 
as  though  ashamed,  or  as  though  he  had  gone 
mad  and  believed  himself  to  be  an  ostrich.  Then 
apparently  he  thought  the  better  of  it,  and  gazed 
boldly  forth  again.  And  the  boat  passed  on  its 
starboard  side  within  a  dozen  feet  of  him  and 


130  Denry  the  Audacious 

his  machine.  Then  it  put  about  and  passed  on 
the  port  side.  And  the  same  thing  occurred  on 
every  trip.  And  the  last  trippers  of  the  day 
left  Robinson  Crusoe  on  the  strip  of  beach  in 
his  solitude. 

The  next  morning  a  photographer's  shop  on 
the  Parade  pulled  down  its  shutters  and  dis- 
played posters  all  over  the  upper  part  of  its 
windows : 

"  The  Lifeboat  Photograph  Bureau." 

And  the  lower  part  of  the  windows  held  six- 
teen different  large  photographs  of  the  lifeboat 
broadside  on.  The  likenesses  of  over  a  hundred 
visitors,  many  of  them  with  sou'-westers,  cork 
belts,  and  life  lines,  could  be  clearly  dis- 
tinguished in  these  picturesque  groups.  A  notice 
said: 

"  Copies  of  any  of  these  magnificent  per- 
manent photographs  can  he  supplied,  hand- 
somely mounted,  at  a  charge  of  two  shillings 
each.  Orders  executed  in  rotation,  and  de- 
livered hy  post  if  necessary.  It  is  respectfully 
requested  that  cash  he  paid  with  order.  Other- 
wise orders  cannot  he  accepted." 

Very  few  of  those  who  had  made  the  trip 
could  resist  tlie  fascination  of  a  photograph  of 
themselves  in  a  real  lifeboat,  manned  by  real 
heroes,  and  real  Norwegians  on  real  waves,  es- 


The  Mercantile  Marine  131 

pecially  if  they  had  worn  the  gear  appropriate 
to  lifeboats.  The  windows  of  the  shop  were  be- 
set throughout  the  day  with  crowds  anxious  to 
see  who  was  in  the  lifeboat,  and  who  had  come 
out  well,  and  who  was  a  perfect  fright.  The 
orders  on  the  first  day  amounted  to  over  fifteen 
pounds,  for  not  everybody  was  content  with  one 
photograph.  The  novelty  was  acute  and  en- 
chanting and  it  renewed  itself  each  day.  "  Let 's 
go  down  and  look  at  the  lifeboat  photographs," 
people  would  say,  when  they  were  wondering 
what  to  do  next.  Some  persons  who  had  not 
"  taken  nicely "  would  perform  a  special  trip 
in  the  lifeboat  and  would  wear  special  clothes 
and  compose  special  faces  for  the  ordeal.  The 
Mayor  of  Ashby-de-la-Zouch  for  that  year 
ordered  two  hundred  copies  of  a  photograph 
which  showed  himself  in  the  centre,  for  presen- 
tation as  New  Year's  cards.  On  the  mornings 
after  very  dull  days  or  wet  days,  when  photo- 
graphy had  been  impossible  or  unsatisfactory, 
Llandudno  felt  that  sometliing  lacked.  Here  it 
may  be  mentioned  that  inclement  weather  (of 
which,  for  the  rest,  there  was  little)  scarcely 
interfered  with  Denry's  receipts.  Imagine  a 
lifeboat  being  deterred  by  rain  or  by  a  breath 
of  wind!  There  were  tarpaulins.  When  the 
tide  was  strong  and  adverse,  male  passengers 
were  allowed  to  pull,  without  extra  charge, 
though    naturally    they    would    give    a    trifle 


132  Denry  the  Audacious 

to   this   or   that   member   of   the   professional 
crew. 

Denry's  arrangement  with  the  photographer 
was  so  simple  that  a  child  could  have  grasped 
it.  The  photographer  paid  him  sixpence  on  every 
photograph  sold.  This  was  Denry's  only  con- 
nection with  the  photographer.  The  sixpences 
totalled  over  a  dozen  pounds  a  week.  Regard- 
less of  cost,  Denry  reprinted  his  article  from 
the  Staffordshire  Signal  descriptive  of  the  night 
of  the  wreck,  with  a  photograph  of  the  lifeboat 
and  its  crew,  and  presented  a  copy  of  the  sheet 
to  every  client  of  his  photographic  department. 


Llandudno  was  next  titillated  by  the  mys- 
terious "  Chocolate  Remedy "  which  made  its 
first  appearance  in  a  small  boat  that  plied  off 
Robinson  Crusoe's  strip  of  beach.  Not  infre- 
quently passengers  in  the  lifeboat  were  incon- 
venienced by  displeasing  and  even  distressing 
sensations,  as  Denry  had  once  been  incon- 
venienced. He  felt  deeply  for  them.  The 
Chocolate  Remedy  was  designed  to  alleviate  the 
symptoms  while  captivating  the  palate.  It  was 
one  of  the  most  agreeable  remedies  that  the  wit 
of  man  ever  invented.  It  tasted  like  chocolate, 
and  yet  there  was  an  astringent  flavour  of  lemon 
in  it — a  flavour  that  flattered  the  stomach  into 


The  Mercantile  Marine  133 

a  good  opinion  of  itself  and  seemed  to  say, 
"  All 's  right  with  the  world."  The  stuff  was 
retailed  in  sixpenny  packets,  and  you  were  ad- 
vised to  eat  only  a  very  little  of  it  at  a  time, 
and  not  to  masticate,  but  merely  to  permit  melt- 
ing. Then  the  Chocolate  Remedy  came  to  be 
sold  on  the  lifeboat  itself,  and  you  were  in- 
formed that  if  you  "  took  "  it  before  starting 
on  the  wave,  no  wave  could  disarrange  you. 
And,  indeed,  many  persons  who  followed  this 
advice  suffered  no  distress,  and  w^ere  proud  ac- 
cordingly and  duly  informed  the  world.  Then 
the  Chocolate  Remedy  began  to  be  sold  every- 
where. Young  people  bought  it  because  they 
enjoyed  it,  and  perfectly  ignored  the  advice 
against  over-indulgence  and  against  mastication. 
The  Chocolate  Remedy  penetrated  like  the  re- 
frain of  a  popular  song  to  other  seaside  places. 
It  was  on  sale  from  Morecambe  to  Barmouth, 
and  at  all  the  landing-stages  of  the  steamers 
for  the  Isle  of  Man  and  Anglesey.  Nothing  sur- 
prised Denry  so  much  as  the  vogue  of  the  Choco- 
late Remedy.  It  was  a  serious  anxiety  to  him, 
and  he  muddled  both  the  manufacture  and  the 
distribution  of  the  remedy,  from  simple  ig- 
norance and  inexperience.  His  chief  difficulty 
at  first  had  been  to  obtain  small  cakes  of  choco- 
late that  were  not  stamped  with  the  maker's 
name  or  mark.  Chocolate  manufacturers  seemed 
to  have  a  passion  for  imprinting  their  quakerly 


134  Denry  the  Audacious 

names  on  every  bit  of  stuff  they  sold.  Having 
at  length  obtained  a  supply,  he  was  silly  enough 
to  spend  time  in  preparing  the  remedy  himself 
in  his  bedroom!  He  might  as  well  have  tried 
to  feed  the  British  Army  from  his  mother's 
kitchen.  At  length  he  went  to  a  confectioner 
in  Rhyl  and  a  green-grocer  in  Llandudno,  and 
by  giving  away  half  the  secret  to  each  he  con- 
trived to  keep  the  whole  secret  to  himself.  But 
even  then  he  was  manifestly  unequal  to  the  situa- 
tion created  by  the  demand  for  the  Chocolate 
Remedy.  It  was  a  situation  that  needed  the  close 
attention  of  half  a  dozen  men  of  business.  It  was 
quite  different  from  the  affair  of  the  lifeboat. 

One  night  a  man  who  had  been  staying  a  day 
or  two  in  the  boarding-house  in  St.  Asaph's 
Road  said  to  Denry: 

"  Look  here,  mister.  I  go  straight  to  the 
point.     What  '11  you  take?  " 

And  he  explained  what  he  meant.  What 
would  Denry  take  for  the  entire  secret  and 
rights  of  the  Chocolate  Remedy  and  the  use 
of  the  name  "  Machin  "  ("  without  which  none 
was  genuine"). 

"  What  do  you  offer?  "  Denry  asked. 

"  Well,  I  '11  give  you  a  hundred  pounds  down, 
and  that 's  my  last  word." 

Denry  was  staggered.  A  hundred  pounds  for 
simply  nothing  at  all — for  dipping  bits  of  choco- 
late in  lemon- juice! 


The  Mercantile  Marine  135 

He  shook  his  head. 

"  I  '11  take  two  hundred,"  he  replied. 

And  he  got  two  hundred.  It  was  probably 
the  worst  bargain  that  he  ever  made  in  his  life. 
For  the  Chocolate  Remedy  continued  obstinately 
in  demand  for  ten  years  afterwards.  But  he 
was  glad  to  be  rid  of  the  thing;  it  was  spoiling 
his  sleep  and  wearing  him  out. 

He  had  other  worries.  The  boatmen  of  Llan- 
dudno regarded  him  as  an  enemy  of  the  human 
race.  If  they  had  not  been  nature's  gentlemen 
they  would  have  burnt  him  alive  at  a  stake. 
Cregeen,  in  particular,  consistently  referred  to 
him  in  terms  which  could  not  have  been  more 
severe  had  Denry  been  the  assassin  of  Cregeen's 
wife  and  seven  children.  In  daring  to  make 
over  a  hundred  pounds  a  week  out  of  a  ram- 
shackle old  lifeboat  that  Cregeen  had  sold  to 
him  for  thirty-five  pounds,  Denry  was  outraging 
Cregeen's  moral  code.  Cregeen  had  paid  thirty- 
five  pounds  for  the  Fleetw'ing,  a  craft  immeas- 
urably superior  to  Denry's  nameless  tub.  And 
was  Cregeen  making  a  hundred  pounds  a  week 
out  of  it?  Not  a  hundred  shillings!  Cregeen 
genuinely  thought  that  he  had  a  right  to  half 
Denry's  profits.  Old  Simeon,  too,  seemed  to 
think  that  lie  had  a  right  to  a  large  percent- 
age of  the  same  profits.  And  the  Corporation, 
though  it  was  notorious  that  excursionists  visited 
the  town  purposely  to  voyage  in  the  lifeboat, 


136  Denry  the  Audacious 

the  Corporation  made  difficulties — about  the 
embarking  and  disembarking,  about  the  photo- 
graphic strip  of  beach,  about  the  crowds  on  the 
pavement  outside  the  photograph  shop.  Denry 
learnt  that  he  had  committed  the  sin  of  not 
being  a  native  of  Llandudno.  He  was  a  stranger, 
and  he  was  taking  money  out  of  the  town.  At 
times  he  wished  he  could  have  been  born  again. 
His  friend  and  saviour  was  the  local  secretary 
of  the  Lifeboat  Institution,  who  happened  to  be 
a  town  councillor.  This  worthy  man,  to  whom 
Denry  paid  over  about  a  pound  a  day,  was  in- 
valuable to  him.  Further,  Denry  was  invited 
— nay  commanded — to  contribute  to  nearly  every 
church,  chapel,  mission,  and  charity  in  Carnar- 
vonshire, Flintshire,  and  other  counties.  His 
youthfulness  was  not  accepted  as  an  excuse. 
And  as  his  gross  profits  could  be  calculated  by 
any  dunce  who  chose  to  stand  on  the  beach  for 
half  a  day,  it  was  not  easy  for  him  to  pretend 
that  he  was  on  the  brink  of  starvation.  He 
could  only  ward  off  attacks  by  stating  with 
vague,  convinced  sadness  that  his  expenses  were 
much  greater  than  any  one  could  imagine. 

In  September,  when  the  moon  was  red  and 
full,  and  the  sea  glassy,  he  announced  a  series 
of  nocturnal  "  rocket  fetes."  The  lifeboat,  hung 
with  Chinese  lanterns,  put  out  in  the  evening 
(charge  five  shillings)  and,  followed  by  half  the 
harbour's  fleet  of  rowing-boats  and  cutters,  pro- 


The  Mercantile  Marine  137 

ceeded  to  the  neighbourhood  of  the  strip  of  beach, 
where  a  rocket  apparatus  had  been  installed  by 
the  help  of  the  Lifeboat  Secretary.  The  mortar 
was  duly  trained;  there  was  a  flash,  a  whizz,  a 
line  of  fire,  and  a  rope  fell  out  of  the  sky  across 
the  lifeboat.  The  effect  was  thrilling  and  roused 
cheers.  Never  did  the  Lifeboat  Institution  re- 
ceive such  an  advertisement  as  Denry  gave  it 
— gratis. 

After  the  rocketing  Denry  stood  alone  on  the 
slopes  of  the  Little  Orme  and  watched  the  lan- 
terns floating  home  over  the  water,  and  heard 
the  lusty  mirth  of  his  clients  in  the  still  air.  It 
was  an  emotional  experience  for  him.  "  By 
Jove !  "  he  said,  "  I  've  wakened  this  town  up ! " 


VI 


One  morning,  in  the  very  last  sad  days  of  the 
dying  season,  when  his  receipts  had  dropped  to 
the  miserable  figure  of  about  fifty  pounds  a 
week,  Denry  had  a  great  and  pleasing  surprise. 
He  met  Nellie  on  the  Parade.  It  was  a  fact 
that  the  recognition  of  that  innocent,  childlike 
blushing  face  gave  him  joy.  Nellie  was  with  her 
father,  Councillor  Cotterill,  and  her  mother. 
The  Councillor  was  a  speculative  builder,  who 
was  erecting  several  streets  of  British  homes  in 
the  new  quarter  above  the  new  municipal  park 
at    Bursley.     Denry    had    already    encountered 


138  Denry  the  Audacious 

him  once  or  twice  in  the  way  of  business.  He 
was  a  big  and  portly  man  of  forty-five,  with  a 
thin  face  and  a  consciousness  of  prosperity.  At 
one  moment  you  would  think  him  a  jolly,  bluff 
fellow,  and  at  the  next  you  would  be  disconcerted 
by  a  note  of  cunning  or  of  harshness.  Mrs. 
Councillor  Cotterill  was  one  of  those  women 
who  fail  to  live  up  to  the  ever-increasing  height 
of  their  husbands.  Afflicted  with  an  eternal 
stage-fright,  she  never  opened  her  close-pressed 
lips  in  society,  though  a  few  people  knew  that 
she  could  talk  as  fast  and  as  effectively  as  any- 
one. Difficult  to  set  in  motion,  her  vocal 
machinery  was  equally  difficult  to  stop.  She 
generally  wore  a  low  bonnet  and  a  mantle. 
The  Cotterills  had  been  spending  a  fortnight  in 
the  Isle  of  Man,  and  they  had  come  direct  from 
Douglas  to  Llandudno  by  steamer,  where  they 
meant  to  pass  two  or  three  days.  They  were 
staying  at  Craig-y-don,  at  the  eastern  end  of 
the  Parade. 

"  Well,  young  man !  "  said  Councillor  Cotterill. 

And  he  kept  on  young-manning  Denry  with 
an  easy  patronage  which  Denry  could  scarcely 
approve  of.  "  I  bet  I  've  made  more  money  this 
summer  than  you  have — with  all  your  jerrying!  " 
said  Denry  silently  to  the  Councillor's  back 
while  the  Cotterill  family  were  inspecting  the 
historic  lifeboat  on  the  beach.  Councillor  Cot- 
terill said  frankly  that  one  reason  for  their  call- 


The  Mercantile  Marine  139 

ing  at  Llandudno  was  his  desire  to  see  this 
singular  lifeboat,  about  which  there  had  really 
been  a  very  great  deal  of  talk  in  the  Five  Towns. 
The  admission  comforted  Denry.  Then  the 
Councillor  recommenced  his  young-manning. 

"  Look  here,"  said  Denry  carelessly,  "you  must 
come  and  dine  with  me  one  night,  all  of  you 
— will  you?  " 

Nobody  who  has  not  passed  at  least  twenty 
years  in  a  district  where  people  dine  at  one 
o'clock,  and  dining  after  dark  is  regarded  as 
a  wild  idiosyncrasy  of  earls,  can  appreciate 
the  effect  of  this  speech. 

The  Councillor,  when  he  had  recovered  him- 
self, said  that  they  would  be  pleased  to  dine 
with  him;  Mrs.  CotterilFs  tight  lips  were  seen 
to  move,  but  not  heard;  and  Nellie  glowed. 

"  Yes,"  said  Denry,  "  come  and  dine  with  me 
at  the  Majestic." 

The  name  of  the  Majestic  put  an  end  to  the 
young-manning.  It  was  the  new  hotel  by  the 
pier,  and  advertised  itself  as  the  most  luxurious 
hotel  in  the  Principality.  Which  was  bold  of  it, 
having  regard  to  the  magnificence  of  caravan- 
serais at  Cardiff.  It  had  two  hundred  bedrooms, 
and  waiters  wlio  talked  English  imperfectly;  and 
its  prices  were  supposed  to  be  fantastic. 

After  all,  tlie  most  startled  and  frightened 
person  of  tlie  four  was  perhaps  Denry.  He  had 
never  given  a  dinner  to  anybody.     He  had  never 


140  Denry  the  Audacious 

even  dined  at  niglit.  He  had  never  been  inside 
the  Majestic.  He  had  never  had  the  courage  to 
go  inside  the  Majestic.  He  had  no  notion  of 
the  mysterious  preliminaries  to  the  offering  of 
a  dinner  in  a  public  place. 

But  the  next  morning  he  contracted  to  give 
away  the  lifeboat  to  a  syndicate  of  boatmen, 
headed  by  John  their  leader,  for  £35.  And 
he  swore  to  himself  that  he  would  do  that 
dinner  properly  even  if  it  cost  him  the  whole 
price  of  the  boat.  Then  he  met  Mrs.  Cotterill 
coming  out  of  a  shop.  Mrs.  Cotterill,  owing  to 
a  strange  hazard  of  fate,  began  talking  at  once. 
And  Denry,  as  an  old  shorthand  writer,  instinc- 
tively calculated  that  not  Thomas  Allen  Reed 
himself  could  have  taken  Mrs.  Cotterill  down 
verbatim.  Her  face  tried  to  express  pain,  but 
pleasure  shone  out  of  it.  For  she  found  herself 
in  an  exciting  contretemps  which  she  could 
understand. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Machin,"  she  said,  "what  do  you 
think 's  happened?  I  don't  know  how  to  tell 
you,  I  'm  sure.  Here  you  've  arranged  for  that 
dinner  to-morrow  and  it 's  all  settled,  and  now 
Miss  Earp  telegraphs  to  our  Nellie  to  say  she  's 
coming  to-morrow  for  a  day  or  two  with  us. 
You  know  Ruth  and  Nellie  are  such  friends. 
It's  like  as  if  what  must  be,  isn't  it?  I  don't 
know  what  to  do,  I  do  declare.  What  ever  will 
Ruth  say  at  us  leaving  her  all  alone  the  first 


The  Mercantile  Marine  141 

fortnight   she   comes?    I   really   do   think   she 
might  have " 


"  You  must  bring  her  along  with  you,"  said 
Denry. 

"  But  won't  you — shan't  you — won't  she — 
won't  it " 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  Denry.  "  Speaking  for 
myself,  I  shall  be  delighted." 

"  Well,  I  'm  sure  you  're  very  sensible,"  said 
Mrs.  Cotterill.  "  I  was  but  saying  to  Mr. 
Cotterill  over  breakfast — I  said  to  him " 

"  I  shall  ask  Councillor  Rhys-Jones  to  meet 
you,"  said  Denry.  "  He  's  one  of  the  principal 
members  of  the  Town  Council  here;  local  sec- 
retary of  the  Lifeboat  Institution.  Great  friend 
of  mine." 

"Oh!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Cotterill,  "it'll  be 
quite  an  affair." 

It  was. 

Denry  found  to  his  relief  that  the  only  difficult 
part  of  arranging  a  dinner  at  the  Majestic  was 
the  steeling  of  yourself  to  enter  the  gorgeous 
portals  of  the  hotel.  After  that,  and  after  mur- 
muring that  you  wished  to  fix  up  a  little  snack, 
you  had  nothing  to  do  but  listen  to  suggestions, 
each  surpassing  the  rest  in  splendour,  and  say 
"  Yes."  Similarly  with  the  greeting  of  a  young 
woman  who  was  once  to  you  the  jewel  of  the 
world.  You  simply  said,  "  Good  afternoon, 
how  are  you?  "     And  she  said  the  same.     And 


142  Denry  the  Audacious 

you  shook  hands.  And  there  you  were,  still 
alive ! 

The  one  defect  of  the  dinner  was  that  the  men 
were  not  in  evening  dress.  (Denry  registered 
a  new  rule  of  life:  Never  travel  without  your 
evening  dress,  because  you  never  know  what  may 
turn  up.)  The  girls  were  radiantly  white. 
And  after  all  there  is  nothing  like  white.  Mrs. 
Cotterill  was  in  black  silk  and  silence.  And 
after  all  there  is  nothing  like  black  silk.  There 
was  champagne.  There  were  ices.  Nellie,  not 
being  permitted  champagne,  took  her  revenge  in 
ice.  Denry  had  found  an  opportunity  to  relate 
to  her  the  history  of  the  Chocolate  Remedy.  She 
said,  "  How  wonderful  you  are !  "  And  he  said 
it  was  she  who  was  w^onderful.  Denry  gave  no 
information  about  the  Chocolate  Remedy  to  her 
father.  Neither  did  she.  As  for  Ruth,  indu- 
bitably she  was  responsible  for  the  social  suc- 
cess of  the  dinner.  She  seemed  to  have  the  habit 
of  these  affairs.  She  it  was  who  loosed  tongues. 
Nevertheless,  Denry  saw  her  now  with  different 
eyes  and  it  appeared  incredible  to  him  that 
he  had  once  mistaken  her  for  the  jewel  of  the 
world. 

At  the  end  of  the  dinner  Councillor  Rhys- 
Jones  produced  a  sensation  by  rising  to  propose 
the  health  of  their  host.  He  referred  to  the 
superb  heroism  of  England's  lifeboatmen,  and 
in  the  name  of  the  Institution  thanked  Denry 


The  Mercantile  Marine  143 

for  the  fifty-three  pounds  which  Denry's  public 
had  contributed  to  the  funds.  He  said  it  was 
a  noble  contribution  and  that  Denry  was  a 
philanthropist.  And  he  called  on  Councillor 
Cotterill  to  second  the  toast.  Which  Councillor 
Cotterill  did,  in  good  set  terms  the  result  of 
long  habit.  And  Denry  stammered  that  he  was 
much  obliged,  and  that  really  it  was  nothing. 

But  when  the  toasting  was  finished  Councillor 
Cotterill  lapsed  somewhat  into  a  patronising 
irony,  as  if  he  were  jealous  of  a  youthful  suc- 
cess. And  he  did  not  stop  at  "  young  man." 
He  addressed  Denry  grandiosely  as  "  my 
boy." 

"  This  lifeboat — it  was  just  an  idea,  my  boy, 
just  an  idea!  "  he  said. 

"  Yes,"  said  Denry ;  "  but  I  thought  of  it." 
"  The  question  is,"  said  the  Councillor  pomp- 
ously,  "  can  you  think  of  any  more  ideas  as 
good?  " 

"  Well,"  said  Denry,  "  can  you?  " 
With  reluctance  they  left  tlie  luxury  of  the 
private  dining-room,  and  Denry  surreptitiously 
paid  the  bill  with  a  pile  of  sovereigns,  and 
Councillor  Rhys-Jones  parted  from  them  with 
lively  grief.  The  other  five  ^^alked  in  a  row 
along  the  Parade  in  the  moonlight.  And  when 
they  arrived  in  front  of  Craig-y-don,  and  the 
Cotterills  were  entering,  Ruth,  who  loitered 
behind,  said  to  Denry  in  a  liquid  voice: 


144  Denry  the  Audacious 

"  I  don't  feel  a  bit  like  going  to  sleep.  I 
suppose  you  wouldn't  care  for  a  stroll?  " 

"  Well " 

"  I  dare  say  you  're  very  tired,"  she  said. 

"  No,"  he  replied ;  "  it 's  this  moonlight  I  'm 
afraid  of." 

And  their  eyes  met  under  the  door-lamp,  and 
Ruth  wished  him  pleasant  dreams  and  vanished. 
It  was  exceedingly  subtle. 


VII 


The  next  afternoon  the  Cotterills  and  Ruth 
Earp  went  home,  and  Denry  with  them.  Llan- 
dudno was  just  settling  into  its  winter  sleep, 
and  Denry's  rather  complex  affairs  had  all  been 
put  in  order.  Though  the  others  showed  a  cer- 
tain lassitude,  he  himself  was  hilarious.  Among 
his  insignificant  luggage  was  a  new  hat-box, 
which  proved  to  be  the  origin  of  much  gaiety. 

"  Just  take  this,  will  you?  "  he  said  to  a  porter 
on  the  platform  at  Llandudno  Station,  and  held 
out  the  new  hat-box  with  an  air  of  calm.  The 
porter  innocently  took  it,  and  then,  as  the  hat- 
box  nearly  jerked  his  arm  out  of  the  socket, 
gave  vent  to  his  astonishment  after  the  manner 
of  porters. 

"  By  gum,  mister ! "  said  he.  "  That 's 
heavy !  " 

It,  in  fact,  weighed  nearly  two  stone. 


The  Mercantile  Marine  145 

"  Yes,"  said  Denry ;  "  it 's  full  of  sovereigns, 
of  course." 

And  everybody  laughed. 

At  Crewe,  where  they  had  to  change,  and 
again  at  Knype  and  at  Bursley,  he  produced 
astonishment  in  porters  by  concealing  the  effort 
with  which  he  handed  them  the  hat-box  as 
though  its  weight  was  ten  ounces.  And  each 
time  he  made  the  same  witticism  about 
sovereigns. 

"  What  have  you  got  in  that  hat-box?  "  Ruth 
asked. 

"  Don't  I  tell  you? "  said  Denry,  laughing. 
"  Sovereigns ! " 

Lastly  he  performed  the  same  trick  on  his 
mother.  Mrs.  Machin  was  working,  as  usual, 
in  the  cottage  in  Brougham  Street.  Perhaps  the 
notion  of  going  to  Llandudno  for  a  change  had 
not  occurred  to  her.  In  any  case,  her  presence 
had  been  necessary  in  Bursley,  for  she  had  fre- 
quently collected  Denry's  rents  for  him,  9nd 
collected  them  very  well.  Denry  was  glad  to 
see  her  again,  and  she  was  glad  to  see  him,  but 
they  concealed  their  feelings  as  much  as  pos- 
sible. When  he  basely  handed  her  the  hat-box 
she  dropped  it,  and  roundly  informed  him 
that  she  was  not  going  to  have  any  of  his 
pranks. 

After  tea,  whose  savouriness  he  enjoyed  quite 
as  much  as  his  own  state  dinner,  he  gave  her 


146  Denry  the  Audacious 

a  key  and  asked  her  to  open  the  hat-box,  which 
he  had  placed  on  a  chair. 

"  What  is  there  in  it?  " 

"  A  lot  of  jolly  fine  pebbles  that  I  've  been 
collecting  on  the  beach,"  he  said. 

She  got  the  hat-box  on  to  her  knee,  and  un- 
locked it,  and  came  to  a  thick  cloth,  which  she 
partly  withdrew,  and  then  there  was  a  scream 
from  Mrs.  Machin,  and  the  hat-box  rolled  with 
a  terrific  crash  to  the  tiled  floor,  and  she  was 
ankle-deep  in  sovereigns.  She  could  see  sover- 
eigns running  about  all  over  the  parlour. 
Gradually  even  the  most  active  sovereigns  de- 
cided to  lie  down  and  be  quiet,  and  a  great 
silence  ensued.     Denry's  heart  was  beating. 

Mrs.  Machin  merely  shook  her  head.  Not 
often  did  her  son  deprive  her  of  words,  but  this 
theatrical  culmination  of  his  home-coming  really 
did  leave  her  speechless. 

Late  that  night  rows  of  piles  of  sovereigns 
decorated  the  oval  table  in  the  parlour. 

"  A  thousand  and  eleven,"  said  Denry  at 
length,  beneath  the  lamp.  "  There 's  fifteen 
missing  yet.     We  '11  look  for  'em  to-morrow." 

For  several  days  afterwards  Mrs.  Machin  was 
still  picking  up  sovereigns.  Two  had  even  gone 
outside  the  parlour,  and  down  the  two  steps  into 
the  backyard,  and,  finding  themselves  unable  to 
get  back,  had  remained  there. 

And  all  the  town  knew  that  the  unique  Denry 


The  Mercantile  Marine  147 

had  thought  of  the  idea  of  returning  home  to  his 
mother  with  a  hat-box  crammed  with  sovereigns. 
This  was  Denry's  "  latest,"  and  it  employed  the 
conversation  of  the  borough  for  I  don't  know 
how  long. 


CHAPTER  VI.     HIS  BURGLARY 


The  fact  that  Denry  Macbin  decided  not  to 
drive  behind  his  mule  to  Sneyd  Hall  showed 
in  itself  that  the  enterprise  of  interviewing  the 
Countess  of  Chell  was  not  quite  the  simple  daily 
trifling  matter  that  he  strove  to  pretend  it  was. 

The  mule  was  a  part  of  bis  more  recent  splen- 
dour. It  was  aged  seven,  and  it  bad  cost  Denry 
ten  pounds.  He  bad  bought  it  off  a  farmer 
whose  wife  "  stood "  St.  Luke's  Market.  His 
excuse  was  that  be  needed  help  in  getting  about 
the  Five  Towns  in  pursuit  of  cottage  rents,  for 
bis  business  of  a  rent  collector  had  grown.  But 
for  this  purpose  a  bicycle  would  have  served 
equally  well,  and  would  not  have  cost  a  shilling 
a  day  to  feed,  as  the  mule  did,  nor  have  shied 
at  policemen,  as  the  mule  nearly  always  did. 
Denry  had  bought  the  mule  simply  because  he 
bad  been  struck  all  of  a  sudden  with  the  idea 
of  buying  the  mule.  Some  time  previously  Jos 
Curtenty  ( the  Deputy  Mayor,  who  became  Mayor 

148 


His  Burglary  149 

of  Bursley  on  the  Earl  of  Cliell  being  called 
away  to  govern  an  Australian  Colony)  had  made 
an  enormous  sensation  by  buying  a  flock  of 
geese  and  driving  them  home  himself.  Denry 
did  not  like  this.  He  was,  indeed,  jealous,  if 
a  large  mind  can  be  jealous.  Jos  Curtenty  was 
old  enough  to  be  his  grandfather,  and  had  been 
a  recognised  "  card  "  and  "  character  "  since  be- 
fore Denry's  birth.  But  Denry,  though  so  young, 
had  made  immense  progress  as  a  card,  and  had, 
perhaps  justifiably,  come  to  consider  himself  as 
the  premier  card,  the  very  ace,  of  the  town.  He 
felt  that  some  reply  was  needed  to  Curtenty's 
geese,  and  the  mule  was  his  reply.  It  served 
excellently.  People  were  soon  asking  each  other 
whether  they  had  heard  that  Denry  Machin's 
"  latest "  was  to  buy  a  mule.  He  obtained  a 
little  old  victoria  for  another  ten  pounds,  and 
a  good  set  of  harness  for  three  guineas.  The 
carriage  was  low  which  enabled  him,  as  he  said, 
to  nip  in  and  out  much  more  easily  than  in 
and  out  of  a  trap.  In  his  business  you  did  al- 
most nothing  but  nip  in  and  out.  On  the  front 
seat  he  caused  to  be  fitted  a  narrow  box  of 
japanned  tin  with  a  formidable  lock  and  slits 
on  the  top.  This  box  was  understood  to  receive 
the  rents,  as  he  collected  them.  It  was  always 
guarded  on  journeys  by  a  cross  between  a  mas- 
tiff and  something  unknown,  whose  growl  would 
have  terrorised  a  lion-tamer.    Denry  himself  was 


150  Denry  the  Audacious 

afraid  of  Rajah,  the  dog,  but  lie  would  not  ad- 
mit it.  Rajah  slept  in  the  stable  behind  Mrs. 
Machines  cottage,  for  which  Denry  paid  a  shil- 
ling a  week.  In  the  stable  there  was  precisely 
room  for  Rajah,  the  mule,  and  the  carriage,  and 
when  Denry  entered  to  groom  or  to  harness, 
something  had  to  go  out. 

The  equipage  quickly  grew  into  a  familiar 
sight  of  the  streets  of  the  district.  Denry  said 
that  it  was  funny  without  being  vulgar.  Cer- 
tainly it  amounted  to  a  continual  advertisement 
for  him;  an  infinitely  more  effective  advertise- 
ment than,  for  instance,  a  sandwich-man  at 
eighteen-pence  a  day,  and  costing  no  more,  even 
with  the  license  and  the  shoeing.  Moreover  a 
sandwich-man  has  this  inferiority  to  a  turnout: 
when  you  have  done  with  him  you  cannot  put 
him  up  to  auction  and  sell  him.  Further,  there 
are  no  sandwich-men  in  the  Five  Towns ;  in  that 
democratic  and  independent  neighbourhood  no- 
body would  deign  to  be  a  sandwich-man. 

The  mulish  vehicular  display  does  not  end  the 
tale  of  Denry's  splendour.  He  had  an  office  in 
St.  Luke's  Square,  and  in  the  office  was  an 
office-boy,  small  but  genuine,  and  a  real  copying- 
press,  and  outside  it  was  the  little  square  sign- 
board which  in  the  day  of  his  simplicity  used 
to  be  screwed  on  to  his  mother's  door.  His 
mother's  steely  firmness  of  character  had  driven 
him  into  the  extravagance  of  an  office.     Even 


His  Burglary  151 

after  lie  had  made  over  a  thousand  pounds  out 
of  the  Llandudno  lifeboat  in  less  than  three 
months,  she  would  not  listen  to  a  proposal  for 
going  into  a  slightly  larger  house,  of  which  one 
room  might  serve  as  an  office.  Nor  would  she 
abandon  her  own  labours  as  a  sempstress. 
She  said  that  since  her  marriage  she  had  al- 
ways lived  in  that  cottage  and  had  always 
worked,  and  that  she  meant  to  die  there,  work- 
ing; and  that  Denry  could  do  what  he  chose. 
He  was  a  bold  youth,  but  not  bold  enough  to 
dream  of  quitting  his  mother;  besides,  his  share 
of  houseliold  expenses  in  the  cottage  was  only 
ten  shillings  a  week.  So  he  rented  the  office; 
and  he  hired  an  office-boy,  partly  to  convey  to 
his  mother  that  he  should  do  what  he  chose,  and 
partly  for  his  own  private  amusement. 

He  was  thus,  at  an  age  when  fellows  without 
imagination  are  fraying  their  cuffs  for  the  en- 
richment of  their  elders  and  glad  if  they  can 
afford  a  cigar  once  a  month,  in  possession  of  a 
business,  business  premises,  a  clerical  staff,  and 
a  private  carriage  drawn  by  an  animal  unique 
in  the  Five  Towns.  He  was  living  on  less  than 
his  income ;  and  in  the  course  of  about  two  years, 
to  a  very  small  extent  by  economies  and  to  a 
very  large  extent  by  injudicious  but  happy  in- 
vestments, he  had  doubled  the  Llandudno  thou- 
sand and  won  the  deference  of  tlie  manager  of 
the  bank  at  the  top  of  St.  Luke's  Square — one 


152  Denry  the  Audacious 

of  the  most  unsentimental  men  that  ever  wrote 
"  refer  to  drawer  "  on  a  cheque. 

And  yet  Denry  was  not  satisfied.  He  had  a 
secret  woe,  due  to  the  facts  that  he  was  grad- 
ually ceasing  to  be  a  card  and  that  he  was  not 
multiplying  his  capital  by  two  every  six  months. 
He  did  not  understand  the  money  market,  nor 
the  stock  market,  nor  even  the  financial  article 
in  the  Signal;  but  he  regarded  himself  as  a 
financial  genius  and  deemed  that  as  a  financial 
genius  he  was  vegetating.  And  as  for  setting 
the  town  on  fire,  or  painting  it  scarlet,  he  seemed 
to  have  lost  the  trick  of  that. 


II 


And  then  one  day  the  populace  saw  on  his 
office-door,  beneath  his  name-board,  another 
sign :  "  Five  Towns  Universal  Thrift  Club. 
Secretary  and  Manager,  E.  H.  Machin." 

An  idea  had  visited  him. 

Many  tradesmen  formed  slate-clubs — goose- 
clubs,  turkey-clubs,  whisky-clubs — in  the  au- 
tumn, for  Christmas.  Their  humble  customers 
paid  so  much  a  week  to  the  tradesmen,  who 
charged  them  nothing  for  keeping  it,  and  at 
the  end  of  the  agreed  period  they  took  out  the 
total  sum  in  goods — dead  or  alive;  eatable,  drink- 
able, or  wearable.  Denry  conceived  a  universal 
slate-cluD.     He  meant  it  to  embrace  each  of  the 


His  Burglary  153 

Five  Towns.  He  saw  forty  thousand  industrial 
families  paying  weekly  instalments  into  his 
slate-club.  He  saw  his  slate-club  entering  into 
contracts  with  all  the  principal  tradesmen  of 
the  entire  district,  so  that  the  members  of  the 
slate-club  could  shop  with  slate-club  tickets  prac- 
tically where  they  chose.  He  saw  his  slate-club 
so  powerful  that  no  tradesman  could  afford  not 
to  be  in  relations  with  it.  He  had  induced  all 
Llandudno  to  perform  the  same  act  daily  for 
nearly  a  whole  season,  and  he  now  wished  to 
induce  all  the  vast  Five  Towns  to  perform  the 
same  act  to  his  profit  for  all  eternity. 

And  he  would  be  a  philanthropist  into  the  bar- 
gain. He  would  encourage  thrift  in  the  working- 
man  and  the  working-man's  wife.  He  would 
guard  the  working-man's  money  for  him;  and  to 
save  trouble  to  the  working-man  he  would  call 
at  the  working-man's  door  for  the  working-man's 
money.  Further,  as  a  special  inducement  and 
to  prove  superior  advantages  to  ordinary  slate- 
clubs,  he  would  allow  the  working-man  to  spend 
his  full  nominal  subscription  to  the  club  as  soon 
as  he  had  actually  paid  only  half  of  it.  Thus, 
after  paying  ten  shillings  to  Denry  the  working- 
man  could  spend  a  pound  in  Denry's  chosen 
shops,  and  Denry  would  settle  with  the  shops 
at  once,  wliile  collecting  the  balance  weekly  at 
the  working-man's  door.  But  this  privilege  of 
anticipation  was  to  be  forfeited  or  postponed 


154  Denry  the  Audacious 

if    the    working-man's    earlier    payments    were 
irregular. 

And  Denry  would  bestow  all  these  wondrous 
benefits  on  the  working-man  without  any  charge 
whatever.  Every  penny  that  members  paid  in, 
members  would  draw  out.  The  affair  was  enor- 
mously philanthropic. 

Denry's  modest  remuneration  was  to  come 
from  the  shopkeepers  upon  whom  his  scheme 
would  shower  new  custom.  They  were  to  al- 
low him  at  least  twopence  in  the  shilling  dis- 
count on  all  transactions,  which  would  be  more 
than  sixteen  per  cent,  on  his  capital;  and  he 
would  turn  over  his  capital  three  times  a  year. 
He  calculated  that  out  of  fifty  per  cent,  per 
annum  he  would  be  able  to  cover  workina: 
expenses  and  a  little  over. 

Of  course,  he  had  to  persuade  the  shopkeepers. 
He  drove  his  mule  to  Hanbridge  and  began  with 
Bostocks,  the  largest  but  not  the  most  distin- 
guished drapery  house  in  the  Five  Towns.  He 
succeeded  in  convincing  them  on  every  point 
except  that  of  his  own  financial  stability.  Bos- 
tocks indicated  their  opinion  that  he  looked  far 
too  much  like  a  boy  to  be  financially  stable.  His 
reply  was  to  offer  to  deposit  fifty  pounds  with 
them  before  starting  business  and  to  renew  the 
sum  in  advance  as  quickly  as  the  members  of 
his  club  should  exhaust  it.  Cheques  talk.  He 
departed  with  Bostocks'  name  at  the  head  of 


His  Burglary  155 

his  list,  and  he  used  them  as  a  clinching  argu- 
ment with  other  shops.  But  the  prejudice 
against  his  youth  was  strong  and  general. 
"  Yes,"  tradesmen  would  answer,  "  what  you  say 
is  all  right,  but  you  are  so  young."  As  if  to 
insinuate  that  a  man  must  be  either  a  rascal 
or  a  fool  until  he  is  thirty,  just  as  he  must 
be  either  a  fool  or  a  physician  after  he  is  forty. 
Nevertheless,  he  had  soon  compiled  a  list  of 
several  score  shops. 

His  mother  said : 

"  Why  don't  you  grow  a  beard?  Here  you 
spend  money  on  razors,  strops,  soaps,  and 
brushes,  besides  a  quarter  of  an  hour  of  your 
time  every  day,  and  cutting  yourself — all  to  keep 
yourself  from  having  something  that  would  be 
the  greatest  help  to  you  in  business!  With  a 
beard  you  'd  look  at  least  thirty-one.  Your 
father  had  a  splendid  beard,  and  so  could  you 
if  you  chose." 

This  was  high  wisdom.  But  he  would  not 
listen  to  it.  The  truth  is,  he  was  getting  some- 
what dandiacal. 

At  length  his  scheme  lacked  naught  but  what 
Denry  called  a  "right-down  good  starting  shove." 
In  a  word  a  fine  advertisement  to  fire  it  off. 
Now,  he  could  have  had  the  whole  of  the  first 
page  of  the  Signal  (at  that  period)  for  five- 
and-twenty  pounds.  But  lie  had  been  so  ac- 
customed to  free  advertisements  of  one  sort  or 


156  Denry  the  Audacious 

another  that  the  notion  of  paying  for  one  was 
loathsome  to  him.  Then  it  was  that  he  thought 
of  the  Countess  of  Chell,  who  happened  to  be 
staying  at  Knype.  If  he  could  obtain  that  great 
aristocrat,  that  ex-Mayoress,  that  lovely  witch, 
that  benefactor  of  the  district,  to  honour  his 
Thrift  Club  as  patroness,  success  was  certain. 
Everybody  in  the  Five  Towns  sneered  at  the 
Countess  and  called  her  a  busybody;  she  was 
even  dubbed  "interfering  Iris"  (Iris  being  one 
of  her  eleven  Christian  names)  ;  the  Five  Towns 
was  fiercely  democratic — in  theory.  In  practice 
the  Countess  was  worshipped;  her  smile  was 
worth  at  least  five  pounds,  and  her  invitation 
to  tea  was  priceless.  She  could  not  have  been 
more  sincerely  adulated  in  the  United  States, 
the  home  of  social  equality. 

Denry  said  to  himself. 

"  And  why  should  n't  I  get  her  name  as  patron- 
ess?    I  will  have  her  name  as  patroness." 

Hence  the  expedition  to  Sneyd  Hall,  one  of 
the  various  ancestral  homes  of  the  Earls  of 
Chell. 


Ill 


He  had  been  to  Sneyd  Hall  before  many  times 
— like  the  majority  of  the  inhabitants  of  the 
Five  Towns — for,  by  the  generosity  of  its  owner, 
Sneyd  Park  was  always  open  to  the  public.     To 


His  Burglary  157 

picnic  in  Sneyd  Park  was  one  of  the  chief  dis- 
tractions of  the  Five  Towns  on  Thursday  and 
Saturday  afternoons.  But  he  had  never  entered 
the  private  gardens.  In  the  midst  of  the  private 
gardens  stood  the  Hall,  shut  off  by  immense  iron 
palisades,  like  a  lion  in  a  cage  at  the  Zoo.  On 
the  autumn  afternoon  of  his  historic  visit,  Denry 
passed  with  qualms  through  the  double  gates  of 
the  palisade,  and  began  to  crunch  the  gravel 
of  the  broad  drive  that  led  in  a  straight  line  to 
the  overwhelming  Palladian  facade  of  the  Hall. 

Yes,  he  was  decidedly  glad  that  he  had  not 
brought  his  mule.  As  he  approached  nearer  and 
nearer  to  the  Countess's  front  door  his  argu- 
ments in  favour  of  the  visit  grew  more  and  more 
ridiculous.  Useless  to  remind  himself  that  he 
had  once  danced  with  the  Countess  at  the  muni- 
cipal ball,  and  amused  her  to  the  giggling  point, 
and  restored  her  lost  fan  to  her.  Useless  to 
remind  himself  that  he  was  a  quite  exceptional 
young  man,  Avith  a  quite  exceptional  renown, 
and  the  equal  of  any  man  or  woman  on  earth. 
Useless  to  remind  himself  that  the  Countess  was 
notorious  for  her  affability  and  also  for  her 
efforts  to  encourage  the  true  welfare  of  the  Five 
Towns.     The  visit  was  grotesque. 

He  ought  to  have  written.  He  ought,  at  any 
rate,  to  have  announced  his  visit  by  a  note.  Yet 
only  an  hour  earlier  he  had  been  arguing  that 
he  could  most  easily  capture  the  Countess  by 


158  Denry  the  Audacious 

storm,  with  no  warning  or  preparations  of  any 
kind. 

Then,  from  a  lateral  path,  a  closed  carriage 
and  pair  drove  rapidly  up  to  the  Hall,  and  a 
footman  bounced  off  the  hammer-cloth.  Denry 
could  not  see  through  the  carriage,  but  under  it 
he  could  distinguish  the  skirts  of  some  one  who 
got  out  of  it.  Evidently  the  Countess  was  just 
returning  from  a  drive. 

He  quickened  his  pace,  for  at  heart  he  was  an 
audacious  boy. 

"  She  can't  eat  me !  "  he  said. 
This  assertion  was  absolutely  irrefutable,  and 
yet  there  remained  in  his  bold  heart  an  irra- 
tional fear  that  after  all  she  could  eat  him. 
Such  is  the  extraordinary  influence  of  a  Palla- 
dian  fagade! 

After  what  seemed  several  hours  of  torture 
entirely  novel  in  his  experience,  he  skirted  the 
back  of  the  carriage  and  mounted  the  steps  to 
the  portal.  And,  although  the  coachman  was 
innocuous,  being  apparently  carved  in  stone, 
Denry  would  have  given  a  ten-pound  note  to 
find  himself  suddenly  in  his  club  or  even 
in  church.  The  masonry  of  the  Hall  rose 
up  above  him  like  a  precipice.  He  was  search- 
ing for  the  bell-knob  in  the  face  of  the 
precipice  when  a  lady  suddenly  appeared  at 
the  doors.  At  first  he  thought  it  was  the 
Countess,  and  that  heart  of  his  began  to  slip 


His  Burglary  159 

down  the  inside  of  his  legs.  But  it  was  not 
the  Countess. 

"  Well !  "  demanded  the  lady.  She  was  dressed 
in  black. 

"  Can  I  see  the  Countess?  "  he  inquired. 

The  lady  stared  at  him.  He  handed  her  his 
professional  card  which  lay  waiting  all  ready  in 
his  waistcoat  pocket. 

"  I  will  ask  my  lady,"  said  the  lady  in  black. 

Denry  perceived  from  her  accent  that  she  was 
not  English. 

She  disappeared  through  a  swinging  door ;  and 
then  Denry  most  clearly  heard  the  Countess's 
own  authentic  voice,  saying  in  a  pettish,  dis- 
gusted tone: 

"  Oh !     Bother !  " 

And  he  was  chilled.  He  seriously  wished  that 
he  had  never  thought  of  starting  his  confounded 
Universal  Thrift  Club. 

After  some  time  the  carrige  suddenly  drove 
off,  presumably  to  the  stables.  As  he  was  now 
within  the  hollow  of  the  porch,  a  sort  of  cave  at 
the  foot  of  the  precipice,  he  could  not  see  along 
the  length  of  the  facade.  Nobody  came  to  him. 
The  lady  who  had  promised  to  ask  my  lady 
whether  the  latter  could  see  him  did  not  return. 
He  reflected  that  she  had  not  promised  to  re- 
turn ;  she  had  merely  promised  to  ask  a  ques- 
tion. As  the  minutes  passed  he  grew  careless,  or 
grew  bolder,  gradually  dropping  his  correct  at- 


i6o  Denry  the  Audacious 

titude  of  a  man-about-town  paying  an  afternoon 
call,  and  peered  through  the  glass  of  the  doors 
that  divided  him  from  the  Countess.  He  could 
distinguish  nothing  that  had  life.  One  of  his 
preliminary  tremors  had  been  caused  by  a  fan- 
ciful vision  of  multitudinous  footmen,  through 
a  double  line  of  whom  he  would  be  compelled  to 
walk  in  order  to  reach  the  Countess.  But  there 
was  not  even  one  footman.  This  complete  ab- 
sence of  indoor  footmen  seemed  to  him  remiss, 
not  in  accordance  with  centuries  of  tradition 
concerning  life  at  Sneyd. 

Then  he  caught  sight,  through  the  doors,  of 
the  back  of  Jock,  the  Countess's  carriage  foot- 
man and  the  son  of  his  mother's  old  friend.  Jock 
was  standing  motionless  at  a  half-open  door  to 
the  right  of  the  space  between  Denry's  double 
doors  and  the  next  pair  of  double  doors.  Denry 
tried  to  attract  his  attention  by  singular  move- 
ments and  strange  noises  of  the  mouth.  But 
Jock,  like  his  partner  the  coachman,  appeared 
to  be  carven  in  stone.  Denry  decided  that  he 
would  go  in  and  have  speech  with  Jock.  They 
were  on  Christian-name  terms,  or  had  been  a 
few  years  ago.  He  unobtrusively  pushed  at  the 
doors,  and  at  the  very  same  moment  Jock,  with 
a  start — as  though  released  from  some  spell — 
vanished  away  from  tlie  door  to  the  right. 

Denry  was  now  within. 

"  Jock !  "     He  gave  a  whispering  cry,  rather 


His  Burglary  i6i 

conspiratorial  in  tone.  And  as  Jock  offered  no 
response,  he  hurried  after  Jock  through  the  door 
to  the  right.  This  door  led  to  a  large  apart- 
ment which  struck  Denry  as  being  an  idealisa- 
tion of  a  first-class  waiting-room  at  a  highly 
important  terminal  station.  In  a  wall  to  the 
left  was  a  small  door,  half  open.  Jock  must 
have  gone  through  that  door.  Denry  hesitated 
— he  had  not  properly  been  invited  into  the  Hall. 
But  in  hesitating  he  was  WTong;  he  ought  to 
have  followed  his  prey  without  qualms.  When 
he  had  conquered  qualms  and  reached  the  further 
door,  his  eyes  were  met,  to  their  amazement, 
by  an  immense  perspective  of  great  chambers. 
Denry  had  once  seen  a  Pullman  car,  which  had 
halted  at  Knype  Station  with  a  French  actress 
on  board.  What  he  saw  now  presented  itself 
to  him  as  a  train  of  Pullman  cars,  one  opening 
into  the  other,  constructed  for  giants.  Each  car 
was  about  as  large  as  the  large  hall  in  Bursley 
Town  Hall,  and,  like  that  auditorium,  had  a 
ceiling  painted  to  represent  blue  sky,  milk-white 
clouds,  and  birds.  But  in  the  corners  were 
groups  of  naked  cupids,  swimming  joyously 
on  the  ceiling;  in  Bursley  Town  Hall  there 
were  no  naked  cupids.  He  understood  now 
that  he  had  been  quite  wrong  in  his  estimate 
of  the  room  by  which  he  had  come  into  this 
Versailles.  Instead  of  being  large  it  was  tiny, 
and  instead  of  being  luxurious  it  was  merely 


i62  Denry  the  Audacious 

furnished  with  miscellaneous  odds  and  ends  left 
over  from  far  more  important  furnisliings.  It 
was,  indeed,  naught  but  a  nondescript  box  of 
a  hole  insignificantly  wedged  between  the  state 
apartments  and  the  outer  lobby. 

For  an  instant  he  forgot  that  be  was  in  pur- 
suit of  Jock.  Jock  was  perfectly  invisible 
and  inaudible.  He  must,  however,  have  gone 
down  the  vista  of  the  great  chambers,  and  there- 
fore Denry  went  down  the  vista  of  the  great 
chambers  after  him,  curiously  expecting  to  have 
a  glimpse  of  his  long  salmon-tinted  coat  or  his 
cockaded  hat  popping  up  out  of  some  corner. 
He  reached  the  other  end  of  the  vista,  having  tra- 
versed three  enormous  chambers,  of  which  the 
middle  one  was  the  most  enormous  and  the  most 
gorgeous.  There  were  high  windows  every- 
where to  his  right,  and  to  his  left,  in  every 
chamber,  double  doors  with  gilt  handles  of  a 
peculiar  shape.  Windows  and  doors,  with  equal 
splendour,  were  draped  in  hangings  of  brocade. 
Through  the  windows  he  had  glimpses  of  the 
gardens  in  their  autumnal  colours,  but  no 
glimpse  of  a  gardener.  Then  a  carriage  flew  past 
the  windows  at  the  end  of  the  suite,  and  he 
had  a  very  clear  though  a  transient  view  of 
two  menials  on  the  box-seat ;  one  of  those  menials 
he  knew  must  be  Jock.  Hence  Jock  must  have 
escaped  from  the  state  suite  by  one  of  the 
numerous  doors. 


His  Burglary  163 

Denry  tried  one  door  after  another,  and  they 
were  all  fastened  firmly  on  the  outside.  The 
gilded  handles  would  turn,  but  the  lofty  and 
ornate  portals  would  not  yield  to  pressure. 
Mystified  and  startled,  he  went  back  to  the  place 
from  which  he  had  begun  his  explorations,  and 
was  even  more  seriously  startled  and  more  deeply 
mystified  to  find  nothing  but  a  blank  wall  where 
he  had  entered.  Obviously  he  could  not  have  pene- 
trated through  a  solid  wall.  A  careful  perusal 
of  the  wall  showed  him  that  there  was  indeed 
a  door  in  it,  but  that  the  door  was  artfully  dis- 
guised by  painting  and  other  devices  so  as  to 
look  like  part  of  the  wall.  He  had  never  seen 
such  a  phenomenon  before.  A  very  small  glass 
knob  was  the  door's  sole  fitting.  Denry  turned 
this  crystal,  but  with  no  useful  result.  In  the 
brief  space  of  time  since  his  entrance  that  door, 
and  the  door  by  which  Jock  had  gone,  had  been 
secured  by  unseen  hands.  Denry  imagined  sin- 
ister persons  bolting  all  the  multitudinous  doors, 
and  inimical  eyes  staring  at  him  through  many 
keyholes.  He  imagined  himself  to  be  the  victim 
of  some  fearful  and  incomprehensible  conspiracy. 

Why  in  the  sacred  name  of  common  sense 
should  he  have  been  imprisoned  in  the  state 
suite?  The  only  answer  to  the  conundrum  was 
that  nobody  was  aware  of  his  quite  unauthorised 
presence  in  the  state  suite.  But  then  why  should 
the  state  suite  be  so  suddenly  locked  up,  since 


164  Denry  the  Audacious 

the  Countess  had  just  come  in  from  a  drive? 
It  then  occurred  to  him  that,  instead  of  just 
coming  in,  the  Countess  had  been  just  leaving. 
The  carriage  must  have  driven  round  from  some 
humble  part  of  the  Hall,  with  the  lady  in  black 
in  it,  and  the  lady  in  black — perhaps  a  lady's 
maid — alone  had  stepped  out  from  it.  The  Coun- 
tess had  been  waiting  for  the  carriage  in  the 
porch,  and  had  fled  to  avoid  being  forced  to 
meet  the  unfortunate  Denry!  (Humiliating 
thought!)  The  carriage  had  then  taken  her  up 
at  a  side  door.  And  now  she  was  gone.  Pos- 
sibly she  had  left  Sneyd  Hall  not  to  return  for 
months,  and  that  was  why  the  doors  had  been 
locked!  Perhaps  everybody  had  departed  from 
the  Hall  save  one  aged  and  deaf  retainer — he 
knew,  from  historical  novels  which  he  had 
glanced  at  in  his  youth,  that  in  every  Hall  that 
respected  itself  an  aged  and  deaf  retainer  was 
invariably  left  solitary  during  the  absences  of 
the  noble  owner.  He  knocked  on  the  small  dis- 
guised door.  His  unique  purpose  in  knocking 
was  naturally  to  make  a  noise,  but  something 
prevented  him  from  making  a  noise.  He  felt 
that  he  must  knock  decently,  discreetly;  he  felt 
that  he  must  not  outrage  the  conventions. 

No  result  to  this  polite  summoning. 

He  attacked  other  doors;  he  attacked  every 
door  he  could  put  his  hands  on;  and  gradually 
he  lost  his  respect  for  decency  and  the  conven- 


His  Burglary  165 

tions  proper  to  Halls,  knocking  loudly  and  more 
loudly.  He  banged.  Nothing  but  sheer  solid- 
ity stopped  his  sturdy  hands  from  going  through 
the  panels.  He  so  far  forgot  himself  as  to  shake 
the  doors  with  all  his  strength  furiously. 

And  finally  he  shouted,  "Hi,  there!  Hi! 
Can't  you  hear?  " 

Apparently  the  aged  and  deaf  retainer  could 
not  hear.  Apparently  he  was  the  deafest  re- 
tainer that  a  peeress  of  the  realm  ever  left  in 
charge  of  a  princely  pile. 

"Well,  that's  a  nice  thing!"  Denry  ex- 
claimed. And  he  noticed  that  he  was  hot  and 
angry.  He  took  a  certain  pleasure  in  being 
angry.  He  considered  that  he  had  a  right  to 
be  angry. 

At  this  point  he  began  to  work  himself  up 
into  the  state  of  "  not  caring,"  into  the  state  of 
despising  Sneyd  Hall  and  everything  for  which 
it  stood.  As  for  permitting  himself  to  be  im- 
pressed or  intimidated  by  the  lonely  magnificence 
of  his  environment,  he  laughed  at  the  idea;  or, 
more  accurately,  he  snorted  at  it.  Scornfully 
he  tramped  up  and  down  those  immense  in- 
teriors, doing  the  caged  lion,  and  cogitating  in 
quest  of  the  right,  dramatic,  effective  act  to  per- 
form in  the  singular  crisis.  Unhappily,  the  car- 
pets were  very  thick,  so  tliat  though  he  could 
tramp,  he  could  not  stamp,  and  he  desired  to 
stamp.     But  in  the  connecting  doorways  there 


i66  Denry  the  Audacious 

were  expanses  of  bare,  bighly  polished  oak  floor, 
and  here  he  did  stamp. 

The  rooms  were  not  furnished  after  the  man- 
ner of  ordinary  rooms.  There  was  no  round 
or  square  table  in  the  midst  of  each  with  a 
checked  cloth  on  it  and  a  plant  in  the  centre. 
Nor  in  front  of  each  window  was  there  a  small 
table  with  a  large  Bible  thereupon.  The  middle 
parts  of  the  rooms  were  empty,  save  for  a  group 
of  statuary  in  the  largest  room.  Great  arm- 
chairs and  double-ended  sofas  were  ranged  about 
in  straight  lines,  and  among  these,  here  and 
there,  were  smaller  chairs  gilded  from  head  to 
foot.  Round  the  walls  were  placed  long,  nar- 
row tables  with  tops  like  glass-cases,  and  in  the 
cases  were  all  sorts  of  strange  matters — such  as 
coins,  fans,  daggers,  snuff-boxes.  In  various 
corners  white  statues  stood  awaiting  the  day 
of  doom  without  a  rag  to  protect  them  from  the 
winds  of  destiny.  The  walls  were  panelled  in 
tremendous  panels,  and  in  each  panel  was  a 
formidable  dark  oil-painting.  The  mantlepieces 
were  so  preposterously  high  that  not  even  a 
giant  could  have  sat  at  the  fireplace  and  put 
his  feet  on  them.  And  if  they  had  held  clocks, 
as  mantlepieces  do,  a  telescope  would  have  been 
necessary  to  discern  the  hour.  Above  each 
mantelpiece,  instead  of  a  looking-glass,  was  a 
vast  picture.  The  chandeliers  were  overpower- 
ing in  glitter  and  in  dimensions. 


His  Burglary  167 

Near  to  a  sofa  Denry  saw  a  pile  of  yellow 
linen  things.  He  picked  up  the  topmost  article, 
and  it  assumed  the  form  of  a  chair.  Yes, 
these  articles  were  furniture-covers.  The  Hall, 
then,  was  to  be  shut  up.  He  argued  from 
the  furniture-covers  that  somebody  must  enter 
sooner  or  later  to  put  the  covers  on  the 
furniture. 

Then  he  did  a  few  more  furlongs  up  and  down 
the  vista,  and  sat  down  at  the  far  end,  under  a 
window.  Anyhow,  there  were  always  the  win- 
dows. High  though  they  were  from  the  floor, 
he  could  easily  open  one,  spring  out,  and  slip 
unostentatiously  away.  But  he  thought  he 
would  wait  until  dusk  fell.  Prudence  is  seldom 
misplaced.  The  windoAvs,  however,  held  a  dis- 
appointment for  him.  A  simple  bar,  pad-locked, 
prevented  each  one  of  them  from  being  opened; 
it  was  a  simple  device.  He  would  be  under  the 
necessity  of  breaking  a  plate-glass  pane.  For 
this  enterprise  he  thought  he  would  wait  until 
black  night.  He  sat  down  again.  Then  he  made 
a  fresh  and  noisy  assault  on  all  the  doors.  No 
result!  He  sat  down  a  third  time  and  gazed 
into  the  gardens  where  the  shadows  were  creep- 
ing darkly.  Not  a  soul  in  the  gardens!  Tlien 
he  felt  a  draught  on  the  crown  of  his  head,  and 
looking  aloft  he  saw  that  the  summit  of  the 
window  had  a  transverse  glazed  flap,  for  ventila- 
tion, and  that  this  flap  had  been  left  open.     If 


i68  Denry  the  Audacious 

he  could  have  climbed  up,  he  might  have  fallen 
out   on   the   other   side   into   the   gardens   and 
liberty.     But  the  summit  of  the  window  was  at 
least  sixteen  feet  from  the  floor. 
Night  descended. 


IV 


At  a  vague  hour  in  the  evening  a  stout  woman 
dressed  in  black,  with  a  black  apron,  a  neat 
violet  cap  on  her  head,  and  a  small  lamp  in  her 
podgy  hand,  unlocked  one  of  the  doors  giving 
entry  to  the  state  rooms.  She  was  on  her 
nightly  round  of  inspection.  The  autumn  moon, 
nearly  at  full,  had  risen  and  was  shining  into 
the  great  windows.  And  in  front  of  the  furthest 
window  she  perceived  in  the  radiance  of  the 
moonshine  a  pyramidal  group  somewhat  in  the 
style  of  a  family  of  acrobats  dangerously  ar- 
ranged on  the  stage  of  a  music-hall.  The  base 
of  the  pyramid  comprised  two  settees ;  upon  these 
were  several  arm-chairs  laid  flat,  and  on  the  arm- 
chairs two  tables  covered  with  cushions  and 
rugs;  lastly,  in  the  way  of  inanimate  nature,  two 
gilt  chairs.  On  the  gilt  chairs  was  something 
that  unmistakably  moved  and  was  fumbling  with 
the  top  of  tlie  window.  Being  a  stout  woman 
with  a  tranquil  and  sagacious  mind,  her  first  act 
was  not  to  drop  the  lamp.  She  courageously 
clung  to  the  lamp. 


His  Burglary  169 

"  Who 's  there?  "  said  a  voice  from  the  apex 
of  the  pyramid. 

Then  a  subsidence  began,  followed  by  a  crash 
and  a  multitudinous  splintering  of  glass.  The 
living  form  dropped  on  to  one  of  the  settees,  re- 
bounding like  a  football  from  its  powerful 
springs.  There  was  a  hole  as  big  as  a  coffin 
in  the  window.  The  living  form  collected  itself, 
and  then  jumped  wildly  through  that  hole  into 
the  gardens. 

Denry  ran.  The  moment  had  not  struck  him 
as  a  moment  propitious  for  explanation.  In  a 
flash  he  had  seen  the  ridiculousness  of  endeavour- 
ing to  convince  a  stout  lady  in  black  that  he  was 
a  gentleman  paying  a  call  on  the  Countess.  He 
simply  scrambled  to  his  legs  and  ran.  He  ran 
aimlessly  in  the  darkness  and  sprawled  over  a 
hedge,  after  crossing  various  flower-beds.  Then 
he  saw  the  sheen  of  the  moon  on  Sneyd  Lake, 
and  he  could  take  his  bearings.  In  winter  all 
the  Five  Towns  skate  on  Sneyd  Lake  if  the  ice 
will  bear,  and  the  geography  of  it  was  quite 
familiar  to  Denry.  He  skirted  its  east  bank, 
plunged  into  Great  Shendon  wood,  and  emerged 
near  Great  Shendon  Station,  on  the  line  from 
Stafford  to  Knype.  He  inquired  for  the  next 
train  in  the  tones  of  innocency,  and  in  half  an 
hour  was  passing  through  Sneyd  Station  itself. 
In  another  fifty  minutes  lie  was  at  home.  The 
clock  showed  ten-fifteen.     His  mother's  cottage 


lyo  Denry  the  Audacious 

seemed  amazingly  small.  He  said  tliat  he  had 
been  detained  in  Hanbridge  on  business,  that 
he  had  had  neither  tea  nor  supper,  and  that  he 
was  hungry.  Next  morning  he  could  scarcely 
be  sure  that  his  visit  to  Sneyd  Hall  was  not 
a  dream.  In  any  event,  it  had  been  a  complete 
and  foolish  failure. 


It  was  on  this  untriumphant  morning  that  one 
of  the  tenants  under  his  control,  calling  at  the 
cottage  to  pay  some  rent  overdue,  asked  him 
when  the  Universal  Thrift  Club  was  going  to 
commence  its  operations.  He  had  talked  of  the 
enterprise  to  all  his  tenants,  for  it  was  precisely 
with  his  tenants  that  he  hoped  to  make  a  begin- 
ning. He  had  there  a  clientele  ready  to  his  hand, 
and  as  he  was  intimately  acquainted  with  the 
circumstances  of  each,  he  could  judge  between 
those  who  would  be  reliable  and  those  to  whom 
he  would  be  obliged  to  refuse  membership.  The 
tenants,  conclaving  togetlier  of  an  evening  on 
doorsteps,  had  come  to  the  conclusion  that  the 
Universal  Tlirift  Club  was  the  very  contrivance 
which  they  had  lacked  for  years.  They  saw  in 
it  a  cure  for  all  their  economic  ills  and  the  gate 
to  paradise.  The  dame  who  put  the  question 
to  him  on  the  morning  after  his  defeat  wanted  to 
be  the  possessor  of  carpets,  a  new  teapot,  a  silver 


His  Burglary  171 

brooch,  and  a  cookery  book;  and  she  was  evi- 
dently depending  upon  Denry.  On  consideration 
he  saw  no  reason  why  the  Universal  Thrift  Club 
should  not  be  allowed  to  start  itself  by  the 
impetus  of  its  o'svn  intrinsic  excellence.  The 
dame  was  inscribed  for  three  shares,  paid 
eighteen  pence  entrance  fee,  undertook  to  pay 
three  shillings  a  week,  and  received  a  document 
entitling  her  to  spend  £3  18s.  in  sixty-five  shops 
as  soon  as  she  had  paid  £1  19s.  to  Denry.  It 
was  a  marvellous  scheme.  The  rumour  of  it 
spread;  before  dinner  Denry  had  visits  from 
other  aspirants  to  membership,  and  he  had 
posted  a  cheque  to  Bostocks',  but  more  from 
ostentation  than  necessity ;  for  no  member  could 
possibly  go  into  Bostocks'  with  his  coupons  until 
at  least  two  months  had  elapsed. 

But  immediately  after  dinner,  when  the  post- 
ers of  the  early  edition  of  the  Signal  waved  in 
the  streets,  he  had  material  for  other  thought. 
He  saw  a  poster  as  he  was  walking  across  to 
his  office.  The  awful  legend  ran :  "  Astound- 
ing attempted  burglary  at  Sneyd  Hall."  In  buy- 
ing the  paper  he  was  afflicted  with  a  kind  of 
ague.  And  the  description  of  events  at  Sneyd 
Hall  was  enough  to  give  ague  to  a  negro.  The 
account  had  been  taken  from  tlie  lips  of  INIrs. 
Gater,  housekeeper  at  Sneyd  Hall.  She  had 
related  to  a  reporter  how,  upon  going  into  the 
state  suite  before  retiring  for  the  night,  she  had 


172  Denry  the  Audacious 

surprised  a  burglar  of  Herculean  physique  and 
Titantic  proportions.  Fortunately  she  knew  her 
duty  and  did  not  blench.  The  burglar  had 
threatened  her  with  a  revolver  and  then,  find- 
ing such  bluff  futile,  had  deliberately  jumped 
through  a  large  plate-glass  window  and  van- 
ished. Mrs.  Gater  could  not  conceive  how  the 
fellow  had  "effected  an  entrance."  (According 
to  the  reporter,  Mrs.  Gater  said  "effected  an 
entrance,"  not  "got  in."  And  here  it  may  be 
mentioned  that  in  the  columns  of  the  Signal 
burglars  never  get  into  a  residence;  without 
exception  they  invariably  effect  an  entrance.) 
Mrs.  Gater  explained  further  how  the  plans  of 
the  burglar  must  have  been  laid  with  the  most 
diabolic  skill;  how  he  must  have  studied  the 
daily  life  of  the  Hall  patiently  for  weeks,  if  not 
months;  hovv^  he  must  have  known  the  habits 
and  plans  of  every  soul  in  the  place,  and  the 
exact  instant  at  which  the  Countess  had  ar- 
ranged to  drive  to  Stafford  to  catch  the  London 
express. 

It  appeared  that  save  for  four  maidservants, 
a  page,  two  dogs,  three  gardeners,  and  the 
kitchen-clerk,  Mrs.  Gater  was  alone  in  the  Hall. 
During  the  late  afternoon  and  early  evening  they 
had  all  been  to  assist  at  a  rat-catching  in  the 
stables,  and  the  burglar  must  have  been  aware 
of  this.  It  passed  Mrs.  Gater's  comprehension 
how   the  criminal  had  got  clear  away  out  of 


His  Burglary  173 

the  gardens  and  park,  for  to  set  up  a  hue  and 
cry  had  been  with  her  the  work  of  a  moment. 
She  could  not  be  sure  whether  he  had  taken  any 
valuable  property,  but  the  inventory  was  being 
checked.  Though  surely  for  her  an  inventory 
was  scarcely  necessary,  as  she  had  been  house- 
keeper at  Sneyd  Hall  for  six-and-twenty  years, 
and  might  be  said  to  know  the  entire  contents 
of  the  mansion  by  heart.  The  police  were  at 
work.  They  had  studied  footprints  and  debris. 
There  was  talk  of  obtaining  detectives  from 
London.  Up  to  the  time  of  going  to  press  no 
clue  had  been  discovered,  but  Mrs.  Gater  was 
confident  that  a  clue  would  be  discovered,  and 
of  her  ability  to  recognise  the  burglar  when 
he  should  be  caught.  His  features,  as  seen  in 
the  moonlight,  were  imprinted  on  her  mind  for 
ever.  He  was  a  young  man,  well  dressed.  The 
Earl  had  telegraphed  offering  a  reward  of 
£20  for  the  fellow's  capture.  A  warrant  was 
out. 

So  it  ran  on. 

Denry  saw  clearly  all  the  errors  of  tact  which 
he  had  committed  on  the  previous  day.  He 
ought  not  to  have  entered  uninvited.  But  hav- 
ing entered,  he  ought  to  have  held  firm  in  quiet 
dignity  until  the  housekeeper  came,  and  then 
he  ought  to  have  gone  into  full  details  with 
the  housekeeper,  producing  his  credentials  and 
showing  her  unmistakably  that  he  was  offended 


174  Denry  the  Audacious 

by  the  experience  which  somebody's  gross  care- 
lessness had  forced  upon  him. 

Instead  of  all  that,  he  had  behaved  with  simple 
stupidity,  and  the  result  was  that  a  price  was 
upon  his  head.  Far  from  acquiring  moral  im- 
pressiveness  and  influential  aid  by  his  journey 
to  Sneyd  Hall,  he  had  utterly  ruined  himself  as 
a  founder  of  a  Universal  Thrift  Club.  You  can- 
not conduct  a  thrift  club  from  prison,  and  a 
sentence  of  ten  years  does  not  inspire  confidence 
in  the  ignorant  mob.  He  trembled  at  the 
thought  of  what  would  happen  when  the  police 
learned  from  the  Countess  that  a  man  with  a 
card  on  which  was  the  name  of  Machin  had 
called  at  Sneyd  just  before  her  departure. 

However,  the  police  never  did  learn  this  from 
the  Countess  (who  had  gone  to  Rome  for  the 
autumn).  It  appeared  that  her  maid  had 
merely  said  to  the  Countess  that  "  a  man  "  had 
called,  and  also  that  the  maid  had  lost  the  card. 
Careful  research  showed  that  the  burglar  had 
been  disturbed  before  he  had  had  opportunity 
to  burgle.  And  the  affair,  after  raising  a  terrific 
pother  in  the  district,  died  down. 

Then  it  was  that  an  article  appeared  in  the 
Signal,  signed  by  Denry,  and  giving  a  full  pic- 
turesque description  of  the  state  apartments  at 
Sneyd  Hall.  He  had  formed  a  habit  of  occa- 
sional contributions  to  the  Signal.  This  article 
began : 


His  Burglary  175 

"  The  recent  sensational  burglary  at  Sneyd 
Hall  has  drawn  attention  to  the  magnificent 
state  apartments  of  that  unique  mansion.  As 
very  few  but  the  personal  friends  of  the  family 
are  allowed  a  glimpse  of  these  historic  rooms, 
they  being  of  course  quite  closed  to  the  pub- 
lic, we  have  thought  that  some  account  of 
them  might  interest  the  readers  of  the  Signal. 
On  the  occasion  of  our  last  visit  ..."  etc. 

He  left  out  nothing  of  their  splendour. 

The  article  was  quoted  as  far  as  Birmingham 
in  the  Midland  Press.  People  recalled  Denry's 
famous  waltz  with  the  Countess  at  the  memor- 
able dance  in  Bursley  Town  Hall.  And  they 
were  bound  to  assume  that  the  relations  thus 
begun  had  been  more  or  less  maintained.  They 
were  struck  by  Denry's  amazing  discreet  self- 
denial  in  never  boasting  of  them.  Denry  rose 
in  the  market  of  popular  esteem.  Talking  of 
Denry,  people  talked  of  the  Universal  Thrift 
Club,  which  went  quietly  ahead,  and  they 
admitted  that  Denry  was  of  the  stuff  which 
succeeds  and  deserves  to  succeed. 

But  only  Denry  himself  could  appreciate  fully 
how  great  Denry  was,  to  have  snatched  such 
a  wondrous  victory  out  of  such  a  humiliating 
defeat ! 

His  chin  slowly  disappeared  from  view  under 
a   quite   presentable   beard.     But   whether    the 


176  Denry  the  Audacious 

beard  was  encouraged  out  of  respect  for  his 
mother's  sage  advice  or  with  the  object  of  put- 
ting the  housekeeper  of  Sneyd  Hall  ofe  the  scent 
if  she  should  chance  to  meet  Denry,  who  shall 
say? 


i 


CHAPTER  VII.    THE  RESCUER  OF  DAMES 

I 

It  next  happened  that  Denry  began  to  suffer 
from  the  ravages  of  a  malady  which  is  almost 
worse  than  failure — namely,  a  surfeit  of  success. 
The  success  was  that  of  his  Universal  Thrift 
Club.  This  device,  by  which  members  after  sub- 
scribing one  pound  in  weekly  instalments  could 
at  once  get  two  pounds'  worth  of  goods  at  nearly 
any  large  shop  in  the  district,  appealed  with 
enormous  force  to  the  democracy  of  the  Five 
Towns.  There  was  no  need  whatever  for  Denry 
to  spend  money  on  advertising.  The  first  mem- 
bers of  the  Club  did  all  the  advertising  and  made 
no  charge  for  doing  it.  A  stream  of  people  anx- 
ious to  deposit  money  with  Denry  in  exchange 
for  a  card  never  ceased  to  flow  into  his  little 
office  in  St.  Luke's  Square.  The  stream,  indeed, 
constantly  thickened.  It  was  a  wonderful  in- 
vention, the  Universal  Thrift  Club.  And  Denry 
ought  to  have  been  happy,  especially  as  his  beard 
was  growing  strongly  and  evenly,  and  giving 
him  the  desired  air  of  a  man  of  wisdom  and  sta- 
bility.    But  he  was  not  happy.     And  the  reason 

177 


178  Denry  the  Audacious 

was  that  the  popularity  of  the  Thrift  Club 
necessitated  much  book-keeping,  and  he  hated 
book-keeping. 

He  was  an  adventurer,  in  the  old  honest  sense, 
and  no  clerk.  And  he  found  himself  obliged 
not  merely  to  buy  large  books  of  account,  but 
to  fill  them  with  figures;  and  to  do  addition 
sums  from  page  to  page;  and  to  fill  up  hundreds 
of  cards;  and  to  write  out  lists  of  shops,  and  to 
have  long  interviews  with  printers  whose  proofs 
made  him  dream  of  lunatic  asylums;  and  to 
reckon  innumerable  piles  of  small  coins;  and  to 
assist  his  small  office-boy  in  the  great  task  of  lick- 
ing envelopes  and  stamps.  Moreover,  he  was 
worried  by  shopkeepers ;  every  shopkeeper  in  the 
district  now  wanted  to  allow  him  twopence  in 
the  shilling  on  the  purchases  of  Club  members. 
And  he  had  to  collect  all  the  subscriptions,  in 
addition  to  his  rents;  and  also  to  make  personal 
preliminary  inquiries  as  to  the  reputation  of 
intending  members.  If  he  could  have  risen 
every  day  at  4  a.m.  and  stayed  up  working  every 
night  till  4  a.m.  he  might  have  got  through  most 
of  the  labour.  He  did  as  a  fact  come  very  near 
to  this  ideal.  So  near  that  one  morning  his 
mother  said  to  him,  at  her  driest : 

"  I  suppose  I  may  as  well  sell  your  bedstead, 
Denry?  " 

And  there  was  no  hope  of  improvement;  in- 
stead of  decreasing  the  work  multiplied. 


The  Rescuer  of  Dames  179 

What  saved  him  was  the  fortunate  death  of 
Lawyer  Lawton.  The  aged  solicitor's  death  put 
the  town  into  mourning  and  hung  the  church 
with  black.  But  Denry  as  a  citizen  bravely 
bore  the  blow  because  he  was  able  to  secure 
the  services  of  Penkethman,  Lawyer  Lawton's 
eldest  clerk,  who,  after  keeping  the  Lawton 
books  and  writing  the  Lawton  letters  for  thirty- 
five  years,  was  dismissed  by  young  Lawton  for 
being  over  fifty  and  behind  the  times.  The 
desiccated  bachelor  was  grateful  to  Denry.  He 
called  Denry  "  sir."  Or  rather  he  called  Denry's 
suit  of  clothes  "  sir,"  for  he  had  a  vast  respect 
for  a  well-cut  suit.  On  the  other  hand,  he  mal- 
treated the  little  office-boy,  for  he  had  always 
been  accustomed  to  maltreating  little  office-boys, 
not  seriously,  but  just  enough  to  give  them  an 
interest  in  life.  Penkethman  enjoyed  desks, 
ledgers,  pens,  ink,  rulers,  and  blotting-paper. 
He  could  run  from  bottom  to  top  of  a  column 
of  figures  more  quickly  than  the  fire-engine 
could  run  up  Oldcastle  Street;  and  his  totals 
were  never  wTong.  His  gesture  with  a  piece 
of  blotting-paper  as  he  blotted  off  a  total  was 
magnificent.  He  liked  long  hours;  he  was  thor- 
oughly used  to  overtime,  and  his  boredom  in 
his  lodgings  was  such  that  he  would  often  ar- 
rive at  the  office  before  the  appointed  hour.  He 
asked  thirty  shillings  a  week,  and  Denry  in  a 
mood  of  generosity  gave  him   thirty-one.      He 


i8o  Denry  the  Audacious 

gave  Denry  his  whole  life,  and  put  a  meticulous 
order  into  the  establishment.  Denry  secretly 
thought  him  a  miracle,  but  up  at  the  Club  at 
Porthill  he  was  content  to  call  him  "  the  human 
machine."  "  I  wind  him  up  every  Saturday 
night  with  a  sovereign,  half  a  sovereign,  and  a 
shilling,"  said  Denry,  "  and  he  goes  for  a  week. 
Compensated  balance  adjusted  for  all  tempera- 
tures. No  escapement.  Jewelled  in  every  hole. 
Ticks  in  any  position.     Made  in  England." 

This  jocularity  of  Denry's  was  a  symptom  that 
Denry's  spirits  were  rising.  The  bearded  youth 
was  seen  oftener  in  the  streets  behind  his  mule 
and  his  dog.  The  adventurer  had,  indeed,  taken 
to  the  road  again.  After  an  emaciating  period 
he  began  once  more  to  stouten.  He  was  the 
image  of  success.  He  was  the  picturesque  card, 
whom  everybody  knew  and  everybody  had  pleas- 
ure in  greeting.  In  some  sort  he  was  rather 
like  the  flag  on  the  Town  Hall. 

And  then  a  graver  misfortune  threatened. 

It  arose  out  of  the  fact  that,  though  Denry 
was  a  financial  genius,  he  was  in  no  sense  quali- 
fied to  be  a  Fellow  of  the  Institute  of  Chartered 
Accountants.  The  notion  that  an  excess  of 
prosperity  may  bring  ruin  had  never  presented 
itself  to  him,  until  one  day  he  discovered  that 
out  of  over  two  thousand  pounds  there  remained 
less  than  six  hundred  to  his  credit  at  the  bank. 
This  was  at  the  stage  of  the  Thrift  Club  when 


The  Rescuer  of  Dames  i8i 

the  founder  of  the  Thrift  Club  was  bound  under 
the  rules  to  give  credit.  When  the  original  lady 
member  had  paid  in  her  £2  or  so,  she  was  en- 
titled to  spend  £4  or  so  at  shops.  She  did  spend 
£4  or  so  at  shops.  And  Denry  had  to  pay  the 
shops.  He  was  thus  temporarily  nearly  £2  out 
of  pocket,  and  he  had  to  collect  that  sum  by 
trifling  instalments.  Multiply  this  case  by  five 
hundred,  and  you  will  understand  the  drain  on 
Denry's  capital.  Multiply  it  by  a  thousand,  and 
you  will  understand  the  very  serious  peril  which 
overhung  Denry.  Multiply  it  by  fifteen  hund- 
red and  you  will  understand  that  Denry  had 
been  culpably  silly  to  inaugurate  a  mighty 
scheme  like  the  Universal  Thrift  Club  on  a 
paltry  capital  of  two  thousand  pounds.  He  had. 
In  his  simplicity  he  had  regarded  two  thousand 
pounds  as  boundless  wealth. 

Although  new  subscriptions  poured  in,  the 
drain  grew  more  distressing.  Yet  he  could  not 
persuade  himself  to  refuse  new  members.  He 
stiffened  his  rules,  and  compelled  members  to 
pay  at  his  office  instead  of  on  their  own  door- 
steps; he  instituted  fines  for  irregularity.  But 
nothing  could  stop  the  progress  of  the  Universal 
Thrift  Club.  And  disaster  approached.  Denry 
felt  as  though  he  were  being  pushed  nearer  and 
nearer  to  the  edge  of  a  precipice  by  a  tremendous 
multitude  of  people.  At  length,  very  much 
against  his  inclination,  he  put  up  a  card  in  his 


1 82  Denry  the  Audacious 

window  that  no  new  members  could  be  accepted 
until  further  notice,  pending  the  acquisition  of 
larger  offices  and  other  rearrangements. 

For  the  shrewd,  it  was  a  confession  of  failure, 
and  he  knew  it. 

Then  the  rumour  began  to  form,  and  to 
thicken,  and  to  spread,  that  Denry's  famous 
Universal  Thrift  Club  was  unsound  at  the  core, 
and  that  the  teeth  of  those  who  had  bitten  the 
apple  would  be  set  on  edge. 

And  Denry  saw  that  something  great,  some- 
thing decisive,  must  be  done  and  done  with 
rapidity. 


II 


His  thoughts  turned  to  the  Countess  of  Chell. 
The  original  attempt  to  engage  her  moral  sup- 
port in  aid  of  the  Thrift  Club  had  ended  in  a 
dangerous  fiasco.  Denry  had  been  beaten  by 
circumstances.  And  though  he  had  emerged 
from  the  defeat  with  credit,  he  had  no  taste  for 
defeat.  He  disliked  defeat  even  when  it  was 
served  with  jam.  And  his  indomitable  thoughts 
turned  to  the  Countess  again.  He  put  it  to 
himself  in  this  way,  scratching  his  head: 

"  I  've  got  to  get  hold  of  that  woman,  and 
that's  all  about  it!" 

The  Countess  at  this  period  was  busying  her- 
self with  the  policemen  of  the  Five  Towns.     In 


The  Rescuer  of  Dames  183 

her  exhaustless  passion  for  philanthropy,  ba- 
zaars, and  platforms,  she  had  already  dealt  with 
orphans,  the  aged,  the  blind,  potter's  asthma, 
creches,  churches,  chapels,  schools,  economic 
cookery,  the  smoke-nuisance,  country  holidays, 
Christmas  puddings  and  blankets,  healthy  mu- 
sical entertainments,  and  barmaids.  The  ex- 
cellent and  beautiful  creature  was  suffering 
from  a  dearth  of  subjects  when  the  policemen 
occurred  to  her.  She  made  the  benevolent  dis- 
covery that  policemen  were  overworked,  under- 
paid, courteous  and  trustworthy  public  ser- 
vants, and  that  our  lives  depended  on  them. 
And  from  this  discovery  it  naturally  fol- 
lowed that  policemen  deserved  her  energetic 
assistance.  Which  assistance  resulted  in  the 
erection  of  a  Policemen's  Institute  at  Han- 
bridge,  the  chief  of  the  Five  Towns.  At  the 
Institute  policemen  would  be  able  to  play  at 
draughts,  read  the  papers,  and  drink  everything 
non-alcoholic  at  prices  that  defied  competition. 
And  the  Institute  also  conferred  other  benefits 
on  those  whom  all  the  Five  Mayors  of  the  Five 
Towns  fell  into  the  way  of  describing  as  "  the 
stalwart  guardians  of  tlie  law."  The  Institute, 
having  been  built,  had  to  be  opened  with  due 
splendour  and  ceremony.  And  naturally  the 
Countess  of  Chell  was  the  person  to  open  it, 
since  without  her  it  would  never  have  existed. 
The  solemn  day  was  a  day  in  March,  and  the 


i84  Denry  the  Audacious 

hour  was  fixed  for  three  o'clock,  and  the  place 
was  the  large  hall  of  the  Institute  itself,  behind 
Crown  Square,  which  is  the  Trafalgar  Square 
of  Hanbridge.  The  Countess  was  to  drive  over 
from  Sneyd.  Had  the  epoch  been  ten  years  later 
she  would  have  motored  over.  But  probably 
that  would  not  have  made  any  difference  as  to 
what  happened. 

In  relating  what  did  happen  I  confine  myself 
to  facts,  eschewing  imputations.  It  is  a  truism 
that  life  is  full  of  coincidences,  but  whether 
these  events  comprised  a  coincidence,  or  not, 
each  reader  must  decide  for  himself  according 
to  his  cynicism  or  his  faith  in  human  nature. 

The  facts  are:  First,  that  Denry  called  one 
day  at  the  house  of  Mrs.  Kemp  a  little  lower 
down  Brougham  Street,  Mrs.  Kemp  being 
friendly  with  Mrs.  Machin,  and  the  mother  of 
Jock,  the  Countess's  carriage-footman,  whom 
Denry  had  known  from  boyhood.  Second,  that 
a  few  days  later,  when  Jock  came  over  to  see 
his  mother,  Denry  was  present,  and  that  subse- 
quently Denry  and  Jock  went  for  a  stroll  to- 
gether in  the  Cemetery,  the  principal  resort  of 
strollers  in  Bursley.  Third,  that  on  the  after- 
noon of  the  opening  ceremony  the  Countess's 
carriage  broke  down  in  Sneyd  Vale,  two  miles 
from  Sneyd  and  three  miles  from  Hanbridge. 
Fourth,  that  five  minutes  later  Denry,  all  in  his 
best  clothes,  drove  up  behind  his  mule.     Fifth, 


The  Rescuer  of  Dames  185 

that  Denry  drove  right  past  the  breakdown,  ap- 
parently not  noticing  it.  Sixth,  that  Jock  touch- 
ing his  hat  to  Denry  as  if  to  a  stranger  (for,  of 
course,  while  on  duty  a  footman  must  be  dead 
to  all  human  ties)  said: 

"  Excuse  me,  sir,"  and  so  caused  Denry  to 
stop. 

These  are  the  simple  facts. 

Denry  looked  round  with  that  careless  half- 
turn  of  the  upper  part  of  the  body  which  drivers 
of  elegant  equipages  affect  when  their  attention 
is  called  to  something  trifling  behind  them.  The 
mule  also  looked  round — it  was  a  habit  of  the 
mule's — and  if  the  dog  had  been  there  the  dog 
would  have  shown  an  even  livelier  inquisitive- 
ness;  but  Denry  had  left  the  faithful  animal 
at  home. 

"  Good  afternoon,  Countess,"  he  said,  raising 
his  hat,  and  trying  to  express  surprise,  pleasure, 
and  imperturbability  all  at  once. 

The  Countess  of  Chell,  who  was  standing  in 
the  road,  raised  her  lorgnon,  which  was  attached 
to  the  end  of  a  tortoiseshell  pole  about  a  foot 
long,  and  regarded  Denry.  This  lorgnon  was  .1 
new  device  of  hers,  and  it  was  already  having 
the  happy  effect  of  increasing  the  sale  of  long- 
handled  lorgnons  throughout  the  Five  Towns. 

"Oh!  It's  you,  is  it?"  said  the  Countess. 
"  I  see  you  've  grown  a  beard." 

It  was  just  this  easy  familiarity  that  endeared 


i86  Denry  the  Audacious 

her  to  the  district.  As  observant  people  put  it, 
you  never  knew  what  she  would  say  next,  and 
yet  she  never  compromised  her  dignity. 

"  Yes,"  said  Denry.  "  Have  you  had  an 
accident?  " 

"  No,"  said  the  Countess  bitterly :  "  I  'm 
doing  this  for  idle  amusement." 

The  horses  had  been  taken  out,  and  were 
grazing  by  the  roadside  like  common  horses. 
The  coachman  was  dipping  his  skirts  in  the 
mud  as  he  bent  down  in  front  of  the  carriage 
and  twisted  the  pole  to  and  fro  and  round  about 
and  round  about.  The  footman,  Jock,  was  in- 
dustriously watching  him. 

"  It 's  the  pole-pin,  sir,"  said  Jock. 

Denry  descended  from  his  ow^n  hammer-cloth. 
The  Countess  was  not  smiling.  It  was  the  first 
time  that  Denry  had  ever  seen  her  without  an 
efficient  smile  on  her  face. 

"  Have  you  got  to  be  anywhere  particular?  " 
he  asked.  Many  ladies  would  not  have  under- 
stood what  he  meant.  But  the  Countess  was 
used  to  the  Five  Towns. 

"  Yes,"  said  she.  "  I  have  got  to  be  some- 
where particular.  I  've  got  to  be  at  the  Police 
Institute  at  three  o'clock  particular,  Mr.  Machin. 
And  I  shan't  be.  I  'm  late  now.  We  've  been 
here  ten  minutes." 

The  Countess  was  rather  too  often  late  for 
public  ceremonies.     Nobody  informed  her  of  the 


The  Rescuer  of  Dames  187 

fact.  Everybody,  on  the  contrary,  assiduously 
pretended  that  she  had  arrived  to  the  very 
second.  But  she  was  well  aware  that  she  had 
a  reputation  for  unpunctuality.  Ordinarily,  be- 
ing too  hurried  to  invent  a  really  clever  excuse, 
she  would  assert  lightly  that  something  had 
happened  to  her  carriage.  And  now  something 
in  truth  had  happened  to  her  carriage — but  who 
would  believe  it  at  the  Police  Institute? 

"  If  you  '11  come  with  me  I  '11  guarantee  to 
get  you  there  by  three  o'clock,"  said  Denry. 

The  road  thereabouts  was  lonely.  A  canal 
ran  parallel  with  it  at  a  distance  of  fifty  yards, 
and  on  the  canal  a  boat  was  moving  in  the 
direction  of  Hanbridge  at  the  rate  of  a  mile  an 
hour.  Such  was  the  only  other  vehicle  in  sight. 
The  outskirts  of  Knype,  the  nearest  town,  did 
not  begin  until  at  least  a  mile  further  on;  and 
the  Countess,  dressed  for  the  undoing  of  mayors 
and  other  unimpressionable  functionaries,  could 
not  possibly  have  walked  even  half  a  mile  in 
that  rich  dark  mud. 

She  thanked  him,  and  without  a  word  to  her 
servants  took  the  seat  beside  him. 


Ill 


Immediately  the  mule  began  to  trot  the  Coun- 
tess began  to  smile  again.  Relief  and  content 
were    painted    upon    her    handsome    features. 


i88  Denry  the  Audacious 

Denry  soon  learnt  that  slie  knew  all  about 
mules — or  almost  all.  She  told  him  how  she 
had  ridden  hundreds  of  miles  on  mules  in  the 
Apennines,  where  there  were  no  roads,  and  only 
mules,  goats,  and  flies  could  keep  their  feet  on 
the  steep  stony  paths.  She  said  that  a  good 
mule  was  worth  forty  pounds  in  the  Appenines, 
more  than  a  horse  of  similar  quality.  In  fact, 
she  was  very  sympathetic  about  mules.  Denry 
saw  that  he  must  drive  with  as  much  style  as 
possible,  and  he  tried  to  remember  all  that  he 
had  picked  up  from  a  book  concerning  the 
proper  manner  of  holding  the  reins.  For  in 
everything  that  appertained  to  riding  and  driv- 
ing the  Countess  was  an  expert.  In  the  season 
she  hunted  once  or  twice  a  week  with  the  North 
Staffordshire  Hounds,  and  the  Signal  had  stated 
that  she  was  a  fearless  horsewoman.  It  made 
this  statement  one  day  when  she  had  been 
thrown  and  carried  to  Sneyd  senseless. 

The  mule,  too,  seemingly  conscious  of  its  re- 
sponsibilities and  its  high  destiny,  put  its  best 
foot  foremost  and  behaved  in  general  like  a  mule 
that  knew  the  name  of  its  great-grandfather. 
It  went  through  Knype  in  admirable  style,  not 
swerving  at  the  steam-cars  nor  exciting  itself 
about  the  railway  bridge.  A  photographer  who 
stood  at  his  door  manoeuvring  a  large  camera 
startled  it  momentarily,  until  it  remembered 
that  it  had  seen  a  camera  before.     The  Count- 


The  Rescuer  of  Dames  189 

ess,  who  wondered  why  on  earth  a  photographer 
should  be  capering  round  a  tripod  in  a  doorway, 
turned  to  inspect  the  man  with  her  lorgnon. 

They  were  now  coursing  up  the  Cauldon  Bank 
towards  Hanbridge.  They  were  already  within 
the  boundaries  of  Hanbridge,  and  a  pedestrian 
here  and  there  recognised  the  Countess.  You 
can  hide  nothing  from  the  quidnunc  of  Han- 
bridge. Moreover,  when  a  quidnunc  in  the 
streets  of  Hanbridge  sees  somebody  famous  or 
striking  or  notorious,  he  does  not  pretend  that 
he  has  seen  nobody.  He  points  unmistakably  to 
what  he  has  observed,  if  he  has  a  companion, 
and  if  he  has  no  companion  he  stands  still  and 
stares  with  such  honest  intensity  that  the  en- 
tire street  stands  and  stares  too.  Occasionally 
you  may  see  an  entire  street  standing  and  star- 
ing without  any  idea  of  what  it  is  staring  at. 
As  the  equipage  dashingly  approached  the  busy 
centre  of  Hanbridge,  the  region  of  fine  shops, 
public-houses,  hotels,  halls,  and  theatres,  more 
and  more  of  the  inhabitants  knew  that  Iris  (as 
they  affectionately  called  her)  was  driving  with 
a  young  man  in  a  tumble-down  little  victoria 
behind  a  mule  whose  ears  flapped  like  an  ele- 
phant's. Denry  being  far  less  renowned  in  Han- 
bridge than  in  his  native  Bursley,  few  persons 
recognised  him.  After  the  victoria  had  gone  by 
people  who  had  heard  the  news  too  late  rushed 
from  shops  and  gazed  at  the  Countess's  back  as 


190  Denry  the  Audacious 

at  a  fading  dream  until  the  insistent  clanging 
of  a  car-bell  made  them  jump  again  to  the 
footpath. 

At  length  Denry  and  the  Countess  could  see 
the  clock  of  the  Old  Town  Hall  in  Crown  Square, 
and  it  was  a  minute  to  three.  They  were  less 
than  a  minute  off  the  Institute. 

"  There  you  are !  "  said  Denry  proudly.  "  Three 
miles  if  it 's  a  yard,  in  seventeen  minutes.  For 
a  mule  it 's  none  so  dusty." 

And  such  was  the  Countess's  knowledge  of  the 
language  of  the  Five  Towns  that  she  instantly 
divined  the  meaning  of  even  that  phrase  "  none 
so  dusty." 

They  swept  into  Crown  Square  grandly. 

And  then,  with  no  warning,  the  mule  suddenly 
applied  all  the  automatic  brakes  which  a  mule 
has,  and  stopped. 

"  Oh,  Lor ! "  sighed  Denry.  He  knew  the 
cause  of  that  arresting. 

A  large  squad  of  policemen,  a  perfect  regiment 
of  policemen,  was  moving  across  tlie  north  side 
of  the  square  in  the  direction  of  the  Institute. 
Nothing  could  have  seemed  more  reassuring,  less 
harmful,  than  that  band  of  policemen,  off  duty 
for  the  afternoon  and  collected  together  for  the 
purpose  of  giving  a  hearty  and  policemanly  wel- 
come to  their  benefactress  the  Countess.  But 
the  mule  had  his  own  views  about  policemen. 
In  the  early  days  of  Denry's  ownership  of  him 


The  Rescuer  of  Dames  191 

he  had  nearly  always  shied  at  the  spectacle  of 
a  policeman.  He  would  tolerate  steam-rollers, 
and  even  falling  kites,  but  a  policeman  had  ever 
been  antipathetic  to  him.  Denry  by  patience 
and  punishment  had  gradually  brought  him 
round  almost  to  the  Countess's  view  of  police- 
men— namely,  that  they  were  a  courteous  and 
trustworthy  body  of  public  servants,  not  to  be 
treated  as  scarecrows  or  the  dregs  of  society. 
At  any  rate,  the  mule  had  of  late  months  prac- 
tically ceased  to  set  his  face  against  the  policing 
of  the  Five  Towns.  And  when  he  was  on  his 
best  behaviour  he  would  ignore  a  policeman 
completely. 

But  there  were  several  hundreds  of  policemen 
in  that  squad,  the  majority  of  all  the  policemen 
in  the  Five  Towns.  And  clearly  the  mule  con- 
sidered that  Denry,  in  confronting  him  with 
several  hundred  policemen  simultaneously,  had 
been  presuming  upon  his  good  nature. 

The  mule's  ears  were  saying  agitatedly: 

"  A  line  must  be  drawn  somewhere,  and  I 
have  drawn  it  where  my  forefeet  now  are." 

The  mule's  ears  soon  drew  together  a  little 
crowd. 

It  occurred  to  Denry  that  if  mules  were  so 
wonderful  in  the  Apennines  the  reason  must  be 
that  there  are  no  policemen  in  the  Apennines. 
It  also  occurred  to  him  that  something  must  be 
done  to  this  mule. 


192  Denry  the  Audacious 

"Well?"  said  the  Countess  inquiringly. 

It  was  a  challenge  to  him  to  prove  that  he  and 
not  the  mule  was  in  charge  of  the  expedition. 

He  briefly  explained  the  mule's  idiosyncrasy, 
as  it  were  apologising  for  its  bad  taste  in  object- 
ing to  public  servants  whom  the  Countess 
cherished. 

"  They  '11  be  out  of  sight  in  a  moment,"  said 
the  Countess.  And  both  she  and  Denry  tried  to 
look  as  if  the  victoria  had  stopped  in  that  special 
spot  for  a  special  reason  and  that  the  mule  w^as 
a  pattern  of  obedience.  Nevertheless,  the  little 
crowd  was  growing  a  little  larger. 

"  Now,"  said  the  Countess  encouragingly.  The 
tail  of  the  regiment  of  policemen  had  vanished 
towards  the  Institute. 

"  Tchk !  Tchk !  "  Denry  persuaded  the  mule. 
No  response  from  those  forefeet ! 

"  Perhaps  I  'd  better  get  out  and  walk,"  the 
Countess  suggested.  The  crowd  was  becoming 
inconvenient  and  had  even  begun  to  offer  un- 
solicited hints  as  to  the  proper  management  of 
mules.  The  crowd  was  also  saying  to  itself, 
"  It 's  her !  It 's  her !  It 's  her !  "  Meaning 
that  it  was  the  Countess. 

"  Oh,  no !  "  said  Denry.    "  It 's  all  right." 

And  he  caught  the  mule  "  one  "  over  the  head 
with  his  whip. 

The  mule,  stung  into  action,  dashed  away,  and 
the  crowd  scattered  as  if  blown  to  pieces  by  the 


The  Rescuer  of  Dames  193 

explosion  of  a  bomb.  Instead  of  pursuing  a 
right  line  the  mule  turned  within  a  radius  of 
its  own  length,  swinging  the  victoria  round  after 
it  as  though  the  victoria  had  been  a  kettle  at- 
tached to  it  with  string.  And  Countess,  Denry, 
and  victoria  were  rapt  with  miraculous  swift- 
ness away — not  at  all  towards  the  Policemen's 
Institute,  but  down  Longshaw  Road,  which  is 
tolerably  steep.  They  were  pursued,  but  in- 
effectually. For  the  mule  had  bolted  and  was 
winged.  They  fortunately  came  into  contact 
with  nothing  except  a  large  barrow  of  carrots, 
turnips,  and  cabbages  which  an  old  woman  was 
wheeling  up  Longshaw  Road.  The  concussion 
upset  the  barrow,  half  filled  the  victoria  with 
vegetables,  and  for  a  second  stayed  the  mule; 
but  no  real  harm  seemed  to  have  been  done,  and 
the  mule  proceeded  with  vigour.  Then  the  Count- 
ess noticed  that  Denry  was  not  using  his  right 
arm,  which  swung  about  rather  uselessly. 

"  I  must  have  knocked  my  elbow  against  the 
barrow,"  he  muttered.     His  face  was  pale. 

"  Give  me  the  reins,"  said  the  Countess. 

"  I  think  I  can  turn  the  brute  up  here,"  he 
said. 

And  he  did  in  fact  neatly  divert  the  mule  up 
Birches  Street,  which  is  steeper  even  than  Long- 
shaw Road.  The  mule  for  a  few  instants  pre- 
tended that  all  gradients,  up  or  down,  were 
equal    before    its    angry    might.     But    Birches 


194  Denry  the  Audacious 

Street  has  the  slope  of  a  house-roof.  Presently 
the  mule  walked,  and  then  it  stood  still.  And 
half  Birches  Street  emerged  to  gaze.  For  the 
Countess's  attire  was  really  very  splendid. 

"  I  '11  leave  this  here,  and  we  '11  walk  back," 
said  Denry.  "  You  won't  be  late — that  is, 
nothing  to  speak  of.  The  Institute  is  just  round 
the  top  here." 

"  You  don't  mean  to  say  you  're  going  to  let 
that  mule  beat  you !  "  exclaimed  the  Countess. 

"  I  was  only  thinking  of  your  being  late," 
said  he. 

"  Oh,  bother !  "  said  she.  "  Your  mule  may  be 
ruined."     The  horse-trainer  in  her  was  aroused. 

"  And  then  my  arm?  "  said  Denry. 

"  Shall  I  drive  back?  "  the  Countess  suggested. 

"  Oh,  do !  "  said  Denry.  "  Keep  on  up  the 
street,  and  then  to  the  left." 

They  changed  places,  and  two  minutes  later 
she  brought  the  mule  to  an  obedient  rest  in  front 
of  the  Police  Institute,  which  was  all  newly  red 
with  terra-cotta.  The  main  body  of  policemen 
had  passed  into  the  building,  but  two  remained 
at  the  door,  and  the  mule  haughtily  tolerated 
them.  The  Countess  despatched  one  to  Long- 
shaw  Road  to  settle  with  the  old  woman  whose 
vegetables  they  had  brought  away  with  them. 
The  other  policeman  who,  owing  to  the  Count- 
ess's philanthropic  energy,  had  received  a  course 
of  instruction  in  first  aid,  arranged  a  sling  for 


The  Rescuer  of  Dames  195 

Denry's  arm.  And  then  the  Countess  said  that 
Denry  ought  certainly  to  go  with  her  to  the  in- 
auguration ceremony.  The  policeman  whistled 
a  boy  to  hold  the  mule.  Denry  picked  a  carrot 
out  of  the  complex  folds  of  the  Countess's  rich 
costume.  And  the  Countess  and  her  saviour 
entered  the  portico  and  were  therein  met  by  an 
imposing  group  of  important  male  personages, 
several  of  whom  wore  mayoral  chains.  Strange 
tales  of  what  had  happened  to  the  Countess 
had  already  flown  up  to  the  Institute,  and  the 
chief  expression  on  the  faces  of  the  group  seemed 
to  be  one  of  astonishment  that  she  still  lived. 


IV 


Denry  observed  that  the  Countess  was  now  a 
different  woman.  She  had  suddenly  put  on  a 
manner  to  match  her  costume,  which  in  certain 
parts  was  stiff  with  embroidery.  From  the  in- 
formal companion  and  the  tamer  of  mules  she 
had  miraculously  developed  into  the  public  cele- 
brity, the  peeress  of  the  realm,  and  the  inau- 
gurator-general  of  philanthropic  schemes  and 
buildings.  Not  one  of  the  important  male  per- 
sonages but  would  have  looked  down  on  Denry ! 
And  yet,  while  treating  Denry  as  a  jolly  equal, 
the  Countess  with  all  her  embroidered  and  stiff 
politeness  somehow  looked  down  on  the  import- 
ant male  personages — and  they  knew  it.     And 


196  Denry  the  Audacious 

the  most  curious  thing  was  tliat  they  seemed 
rather  to  enjoy  it.  The  one  wlio  seemed  to  enjoy 
it  the  least  was  Sir  Jehoshophat  Dain,  a  white- 
bearded  pillar  of  terrific  imposingness. 

Sir  Jee — as  he  was  then  beginning  to  be 
called — had  recently  been  knighted,  by  way  of 
reward  for  his  enormous  benefactions  to  the 
community.  In  the  role  of  philanthropist  he 
was  really  much  more  effective  than  rhe  Count- 
ess. But  he  was  not  young,  he  was  not  pretty, 
he  was  not  a  woman,  and  his  family  had  not 
helped  to  rule  England  for  generations — at  any 
rate,  so  far  as  anybody  knew.  He  had  made 
more  money  than  had  ever  before  been  made 
by  a  single  brain  in  the  manufacture  of  earthen- 
ware, and  he  had  given  more  money  to  public 
causes  than  a  single  pocket  had  ever  before 
given  in  the  Five  Towns.  He  had  never  sought 
municipal  honours,  considering  himself  to  be 
somewhat  above  such  trifles.  He  was  the  first 
purely  local  man  to  be  knighted  in  the  Five 
Towns.  Even  before  the  bestowal  of  the  knight- 
hood his  sense  of  humour  had  been  deficient,  and 
immediately  afterwards  it  had  vanished  entirely. 
Indeed,  he  did  not  miss  it.  He  divided  the 
population  of  the  kingdom  into  two  classes — 
the  titled  and  the  untitled.  With  Sir  Jee,  either 
you  were  titled,  or  you  were  n't.  He  lumped  all 
the  untitled  together ;  and  to  be  just  to  his  logical 
faculty,  he  lumped  all  the  titled  together.    There 


The  Rescuer  of  Dames  197 

were  various  titles — Sir  Jee  admitted  that — but 
a  title  was  a  title,  and  therefore  all  titles  were 
practically  equal.  The  Duke  of  Norfolk  was 
one  titled  individual,  and  Sir  Jee  was  another. 
The  fine  difference  between  them  might  be  per- 
ceptible to  the  titled,  and  might  properly  be 
recognised  by  the  titled  when  the  titled  were 
among  themselves,  but  for  the  untitled  such  a 
difference  ought  not  to  exist  and  could  not  exist. 
Thus  for  Sir  Jee  there  were  two  titled  beings 
in  the  group — the  Countess  and  himself.  The 
Countess  and  himself  formed  one  caste  in  the 
group,  and  the  rest  another  caste.  And  although 
the  Countess,  in  her  punctilious  demeanour  to- 
wards him  gave  due  emphasis  to  his  title  (he 
returning  more  than  due  emphasis  to  hers),  he 
was  not  precisely  pleased  by  the  undertones  of 
suave  condescension  that  characterised  her  greet- 
ing of  him  as  well  as  her  greeting  of  the  others. 
Moreover,  he  had  known  Denry  as  a  clerk  of 
Mr.  Duncalf's,  for  Mr.  Duncalf  had  done  a  lot 
of  legal  work  for  him  in  the  past.  He  looked 
upon  Denry  as  an  upstart,  a  capering  mounte- 
bank, and  he  strongly  resented  Denry's  familiar- 
ity with  the  Countess.  He  further  resented 
Denry's  sling,  which  gave  to  Denry  an  interest- 
ing romantic  aspect  (despite  his  beard),  and  he 
more  than  all  resented  that  Denry  should  have 
rescued  the  Countess  from  a  carriage  accident 
by  means  of  his  preposterous  mule.     Whenever 


198  Denry  the  Audacious 

the  Countess,  in  the  preliminary  chatter,  re- 
ferred to  Denry  or  looked  at  Denry,  in  recount- 
ing the  history  of  her  adventures,  Sir  Jee's  soul 
squirmed,  and  his  body  sympathised  with  his 
soul.  Something  in  him  that  was  more  power- 
ful than  himself  compelled  him  to  do  his  utmost 
to  reduce  Denry  to  a  moral  pulp,  to  flatten  him, 
to  ignore  him,  or  to  exterminate  him  by  the 
application  of  ice.  This  tactic  was  no  more  lost 
on  the  Countess  than  it  was  on  Denry.  And 
the  Countess  foiled  it  at  every  instance.  In  truth, 
there  existed  between  the  Countess  and  Sir  Jee  a 
rather  hot  rivalry  in  philanthropy  and  the  cul- 
tivation of  the  higher  welfare  of  the  district. 
He  regarded  himself,  and  she  regarded  herself, 
as  the  most  brightly  glittering  star  of  the  Five 
Towns. 

When  the  Countess  had  finished  the  recital  of 
her  journey,  and  the  faces  of  the  group  had  gone 
through  all  the  contortions  proper  to  express 
terror,  amazement,  admiration,  and  manly  sym- 
pathy. Sir  Jee  took  the  lead,  coughed,  and  said 
in  his  elaborate  style: 

"  Before  we  adjourn  to  the  hall,  will  not  your 
ladyship  take  a  little  refreshment?" 

"  Oh,  no,  thanks !  "  said  the  Countess.  "  I  'm 
not  a  bit  upset."  Then  she  turned  to  the  en- 
slinged  Denry  and  with  concern  added,  "  But 
will  you  have  something?  " 

If  she  could  have  foreseen  tlie  consequences  of 


The  Rescuer  of  Dames  199 

her  question,  she  might  never  have  put  it.  Still, 
she  might  have  put  it  just  the  same. 

Denry  paused  an  instant,  and  an  old  habit 
rose  up  in  him. 

"Oh,  no,  thanks!"  he  said,  and  turning  de- 
liberately to  Sir  Jee,  he  added:     "Will  you?'' 

This  of  course  was  mere  crude  insolence  to 
the  titled  philanthropic  white  beard.  But  it 
was  by  no  means  the  worst  of  Denry's  behaviour. 
The  group,  every  member  of  the  group,  distinctly 
perceived  a  slight  movement  of  Denry's  left  hand 
toward  Sir  Jee.  It  was  the  very  slightest  move- 
ment, a  wavering,  a  nothing.  It  would  have 
had  no  significance  whatever,  but  for  one  fact: 
Denry's  left  hand  still  held  the  carrot. 

Everybody  exhibited  the  most  marvellous  self- 
control.  And  everybody  except  Sir  Jee  was 
secretly  charmed,  for  Sir  Jee  had  never  inspired 
love.  It  is  remarkable  how  local  philanthropists 
are  unloved,  locally.  The  Countess  without 
blenching  gave  tlie  signal  for  what  Sir  Jee  called 
the  "  adjournment  "  to  the  hall.  Nothing  might 
have  happened,  yet  everything  had  happened. 


Next,  Denry  found  himself  seated  on  the  tem- 
porary platform  which  had  been  erected  in  the 
large  games  hall  of  the  Policemen's  Institute. 
The  Mayor  of  Hanbridge  was  in  the  chair,  and 


200  Denry  the  Audacious 

he  had  the  Countess  on  his  right  and  the  Mayor- 
ess of  Bursley  on  his  left.  Other  mayoral  chains 
blazed  in  the  centre  of  the  platform,  together 
with  fine  hats  of  mayoresses  and  uniforms  of 
police-superintendents  and  captains  of  fire- 
brigades.  Denry's  sling  also  contributed  to  the 
effectiveness;  he  was  placed  behind  the  Count- 
ess. Policemen  (looking  strange  without  hel- 
mets) and  their  wives,  sweethearts,  and  friends, 
filled  the  hall  to  its  fullest;  enthusiasm  was  rife 
and  strident;  and  there  was  only  one  little  sign 
that  the  untoward  had  occurred.  That  little 
sign  was  an  empty  chair  in  the  first  row  near 
the  Countess.  Sir  Jee,  a  prey  to  a  sudden  in- 
disposition, had  departed.  He  had  somehow 
faded  away,  while  the  personages  were  climbing 
the  stairs.  He  had  faded  away  amid  the  ex- 
pressed regrets  of  those  few  who  by  chance  saw 
him  in  the  act  of  fading.  But  even  these  bore 
up  manfully.  The  high  humour  of  the  gathering 
was  not  eclipsed. 

Towards  the  end  of  the  ceremony  came  the 
votes  of  thanks,  and  the  principal  of  these  was 
the  vote  of  thanks  to  the  Countess,  prime  cause 
of  the  Institute.  It  was  proposed  by  the  Su- 
perintendent of  the  Hanbridge  Police.  Other 
personages  had  wished  to  propose  it,  but  the 
stronger  right  of  the  Hanbridge  Superintendent, 
as  chief  officer  of  the  largest  force  of  constables 
in  the  Five  Towns,  could  not  be  disputed.     He 


The  Rescuer  of  Dames  201 

made  a  few  facetious  references  to  the  episode 
of  the  Countess's  arrival,  and  brought  the  house 
down  by  saying  that  if  he  did  his  duty  he  would 
arrest  both  the  Countess  and  Denry  for  driving 
to  the  common  danger.  When  he  sat  down, 
amid  tempestuous  applause,  there  was  a  hitch. 
According  to  the  official  programme  Sir  Jeho- 
sophat  Dain  was  to  have  seconded  the  vote,  and 
Sir  Jee  was  not  there.  All  that  remained  of 
Sir  Jee  was  his  chair.  The  Mayor  of  Hanbridge 
looked  round  about,  trying  swiftly  to  make  up 
his  mind  what  was  to  be  done,  and  Denry  heard 
him  whisper  to  another  mayor  for  advice. 

"  Shall  I  do  it?  "  Denry  whispered,  and  by 
at  once  rising  relieved  the  Mayor  from  the 
necessity  of  coming  to  a  decision. 

Impossible  to  say  why  Denry  should  have 
risen  as  he  did,  without  any  warning.  Ten 
seconds  before,  five  seconds  before,  he  himself 
had  not  the  dimmest  idea  that  he  was  about  to 
address  the  meeting.  All  that  can  be  said  is 
that  he  was  subject  to  these  attacks  of  the 
unexpected. 

Once  on  his  legs  he  began  to  suffer,  for  he 
had  never  before  been  on  his  legs  on  a  platform, 
or  even  on  a  platform  at  all.  He  could  see 
nothing  whatever  except  a  cloud  that  had  mys- 
teriously and  with  frightful  suddenness  filled  the 
room.  And  through  this  cloud  he  could  feel 
that  hundreds  and  hundreds  of  eyes  were  pi  ere- 


202  Denry  the  Audacious 

ingly  fixed  upon  him.  A  voice  was  saying  in- 
side him,  "  What  a  fool  you  are !  What  a  fool 
you  are !  I  always  told  you  you  were  a  fool  I  " 
And  his  heart  was  beating  as  it  had  never  beat, 
and  his  forehead  was  damp,  his  throat  distress- 
ingly dry,  and  one  foot  nervously  tap-tapping  on 
the  floor.  This  condition  lasted  for  something 
like  ten  hours,  during  which  time  the  eyes  con- 
tinued to  pierce  the  cloud  and  him  with  patient, 
obstinate  cruelty. 

Denry  heard  some  one  talking.    It  was  himself. 

The  Superintendent  had  said,  "  I  have  very 
great  pleasure  in  proposing  the  vote  of  thanks 
to  the  Countess  of  Chell." 

And  so  Denry  heard  himself  saying,  "  I  have 
very  great  pleasure  in  seconding  the  vote  of 
thanks  to  the  Countess  of  Chell." 

He  could  not  think  of  anything  else  to  say. 
And  there  was  a  pause,  a  real  pause,  not  a  pause 
merely  in  Denry's  sick  imagination. 

Then  the  cloud  was  dissipated.  And  Denry 
himself  said  to  the  audience  of  policemen,  with 
his  own  natural  tone,  smile,  and  gesture,  collo- 
quially, informally,  comically: 

"  Now  then !  Move  along  there,  please !  I  'm 
not  going  to  say  any  more !  " 

And  for  a  signal  he  put  his  hands  in  the 
position  for  applauding.     And  sat  down. 

He  had  tickled  the  stout  ribs  of  every  bobby 
in  the  place.     The  applause  surpassed  all  pre- 


The  Rescuer  of  Dames  203 

vious  applause.  The  most  staid  ornaments  of 
the  platform  had  to  laugh.  People  nudged 
each  other  and  explained  that  it  was  "  that 
chap  Machin  from  Bursley/'  as  if  to  imply 
that  that  chap  Machin  from  Bursley  never  let 
a  day  pass  without  doing  something  striking 
and  humorous.  The  Mayor  was  still  smiling 
when  he  put  the  vote  to  the  meeting,  and  the 
Countess  was  still  smiling  when  she  responded. 

Afterwards  in  the  portico,  when  everything 
was  over,  Denry  exercised  his  right  to  remain 
in  charge  of  the  Countess.  They  escaped  from 
the  personages  by  going  out  to  look  for  her  car- 
riage and  neglecting  to  return.  There  was  no 
sign  of  the  Countess's  carriage,  but  Denry's  mule 
and  victoria  were  waiting  in  a  quiet  corner. 

"  May  I  drive  you  home?  "  he  suggested. 

But  she  would  not.  She  said  that  she  had 
a  call  to  pay  before  dinner,  and  that  her 
brougham  would  surely  arrive  the  very  next 
minute. 

"  Will  you  come  and  have  tea  at  the  Sub 
Rosa?  "  Denry  next  asked. 

"  The  Sub  Rosa?  "  questioned  the  Countess. 

"  Well,"  said  Denry,  "  that 's  what  we  call  the 
new  tea-room  that 's  just  been  opened  round 
here."  He  indicated  a  direction.  "  It 's  quite 
a  novelty  in  the  Five  Towns." 

The  Countess  had  a  passion  for  tea. 

"  They  have  splendid  China  tea,"  said  Denry. 


204  Denry  the  Audacious 

"  Well,"  said  the  Countess,  "  I  suppose  I  may 
as  well  go  through  with  it." 

At  the  moment  her  brougham  drove  up.  She 
instructed  her  coachman  to  wait  next  to  the 
mule  and  victoria.  Her  demeanour  had  cast  off 
all  its  similarity  to  her  dress:  it  appeared  to 
imply  that,  as  she  had  begun  with  a  mad 
escapade,  she  ought  to  finish  with  another  one. 

Thus  the  Countess  and  Denry  went  to  the 
tea-shop,  and  Denry  ordered  tea  and  paid  for  it. 
There  was  scarcely  a  customer  in  the  place,  and 
the  few  who  were  fortunate  enough  to  be  present 
had  not  the  wit  to  recognise  the  Countess.  The 
proprietress  did  not  recognise  the  Countess. 
(Later,  when  it  became  known  that  the  Count- 
ess had  actually  patronised  the  Sub  Rosa,  half 
the  ladies  of  Hanbridge  were  almost  ill  from 
sheer  disgust  that  they  had  not  heard  of  it  in 
time.  It  would  have  been  so  easy  for  them  to 
be  there,  taking  tea  at  the  next  table  to  the 
Countess,  and  observing  her  choice  of  cakes,  and 
her  manner  of  holding  a  spoon,  and  whether  she 
removed  her  gloves  or  retained  them  in  the  case 
of  a  meringue.  It  was  an  opportunity  lost  that 
would  in  all  human  probability  never  occur 
again.) 

And  in  the  discreet  corner  which  she  had  se- 
lected the  Countess  fired  a  sudden  shot  at  Denry. 

"  How  did  you  get  all  those  details  about  the 
state  rooms  at  Sneyd?  "  she  asked. 


The  Rescuer  of  Dames  205 

Upon  which  opening  the  conversation  became 
lively. 

The  same  evening  Denry  called  at  the  Signal 
office  and  gave  an  order  for  a  half -page  adver- 
tisement of  the  Five  Towns  Universal  Thrift 
Club — "  patroness,  the  Countess  of  Chell."  The 
advertisement  informed  the  public  that  the  Club 
had  now  made  arrangements  to  accept  new  mem- 
bers. Besides  the  order  for  a  half-page  adver- 
tisement, Denry  also  gave  many  interesting  and 
authentic  details  about  the  historic  drive  from 
Sneyd  Vale  to  Hanbridge.  The  next  day  the 
Signal  was  simply  full  of  Denry  and  the  Count- 
ess. It  had  a  large  photograph,  taken  by  a 
photographer  on  Cauldon  Bank,  which  showed 
Denry  actually  driving  the  Countess,  and  the 
Countess's  face  was  full  in  the  picture.  It  pre- 
sented, too,  an  excellently  appreciative  account 
of  Denry's  speech,  and  it  congratulated  Denry 
on  his  first  appearance  in  the  public  life  of  the 
Five  Towns.  (In  parenthesis  it  sympathised 
with  Sir  Jee  in  his  indisposition.)  In  short, 
Denry's  triumph  obliterated  the  memory  of  his 
previous  triumphs.  It  obliterated,  too,  all  ru- 
mours adverse  to  the  Thrift  Club.  In  a  few 
days  he  had  a  thousand  new  members.  Of 
course,  this  addition  only  increased  his  liabil- 
ities; but  now  he  could  obtain  capital  on  fair 
terms,  and  he  did  obtain  it.  A  company  was 
formed.     The  Countess  had  a  few  shares  in  this 


2o6  Denry  the  Audacious 

company.  So  (strangely)  had  Jock  and  his 
companion  the  coachman.  Not  the  least  of  the 
mysteries  was  that  when  Denry  reached  his 
mother's  cottage  on  the  night  of  the  tea  with 
the  Countess  his  arm  was  not  in  a  sling  and 
showed  no  symptom  of  having  been  damaged. 


CHAPTER  VIII.     RAISING  A  WIGWAM 


A  STILL  young  man — his  age  was  thirty — with 
a  short,  strong  beard  peeping  out  over  the  fur 
collar  of  a  vast  overcoat,  emerged  from  a  cab 
at  the  snowy  corner  of  St.  Luke's  Square  and 
Brougham  Street,  and  paid  the  cabman  with  a 
gesture  that  indicated  both  wealth  and  the  habit 
of  command.  And  the  cabman,  who  had  driven 
him  over  from  Hanbridge  through  the  winter 
night,  responded  accordingly.  Few  people  take 
cabs  in  the  Five  Towns.  There  are  few  cabs  to 
take.  If  you  are  going  to  a  party  you  may 
order  one  in  advance  by  telephone,  reconciling 
yourself  also  in  advance  to  the  expense,  but 
to  hail  a  cab  in  the  street  without  forethought 
and  jump  into  it  as  carelessly  as  you  would 
jump  into  a  tram — this  is  by  very  few  done. 
The  young  man  with  the  beard  did  it  frequently, 
which  proved  that  he  was  fundamentally  ducal. 

He  was  encumbered  with  a  large  and  rather 
heavy  parcel  as  he  walked  do^^^l  Brougham 
Street,  and  moreover  the  footpath  of  Brougham 
Street  was  exceedingly  dirty.     And  yet  no  one 

207 


2o8  Denry  the  Audacious 

acquainted  with  the  circumstances  of  his  life 
would  have  asked  why  he  had  dismissed  the  cab 
before  arriving  at  his  destination,  because  every 
one  knew.  The  reason  was  that  this  ducal  per- 
son with  the  gestures  of  command  dared  not 
drive  up  to  his  mother's  door  in  a  cab  oftener 
than  about  once  a  month.  He  opened  that  door 
with  a  latchkey  (a  modern  lock  was  almost  the 
only  innovation  that  he  had  succeeded  in  fixing 
on  his  mother),  and  stumbled  with  his  unwieldy 
parcel  into  the  exceedingly  narrow  lobby. 

"  Is  that  you,  Denry?  "  called  a  feeble  voice 
from  the  parlour. 

"Yes,"  said  he,  and  went  into  the  parlour, 
hat,  fur  coat,  parcel,  and  all. 

Mrs.  Machin,  in  a  shawl  and  an  antimacassar 
over  the  shawl,  sat  close  to  the  fire  and  leaning 
towards  it.  She  looked  cold  and  ill.  Although 
the  parlour  was  very  tiny  and  the  fire  compara- 
tively large,  the  structure  of  the  grate  made  it 
impossible  that  the  room  should  be  warm,  as  all 
the  heat  went  up  the  chimney.  If  Mrs.  Machin 
had  sat  on  the  roof  and  put  her  hands  over  the 
top  of  the  chimney  she  would  have  been  much 
warmer  than  at  the  grate. 

"You  aren't  in  bed?"  Denry  queried. 

"  Can't  ye  see?  "  said  his  mother.  And  in- 
deed to  ask  a  woman  who  was  obviously  sitting 
up  in  a  chair  whether  she  was  in  bed  did  seem 
somewhat  absurd.    She  added,  less  sarcastically : 


Raising  a  Wigwam  209 

*'  I  was  expecting  ye  every  minute.     Where  have 
jre  had  your  tea?  " 

"  Oh !  "  he  said  lightly,  "  in  Hanbridge." 

An  untruth!  He  had  not  had  his  tea  any- 
where. But  he  had  dined  richly  at  the  new: 
Hotel  Metropole,  Hanbridge. 

"  What  have  ye  got  there?  "  asked  his  mother. 

"  A  present  for  you,"  said  Denry.  "  It 's  your 
birthday  to-morrow." 

"  I  don't  know  as  I  want  reminding  of  that," 
murmured  Mrs.  Machin. 

But  when  he  had  undone  the  parcel  and  held 
up  the  contents  before  her  she  exclaimed: 

"  Bless  us !  " 

The  staggered  tone  was  an  admission  that  for 
once  in  a  way  he  had  impressed  her. 

It  was  a  magnificent  sealskin  mantle,  longer 
than  sealskin  mantles  usually  are.  It  was  one 
of  those  articles  the  owner  of  which  can  say: 
"  Nobody  can  have  a  better  than  this— I  don't 
care  who  she  is."  It  was  worth  in  monetary 
value  all  the  plain  shabby  clothes  on  Mrs. 
Machin's  back,  and  all  her  very  ordinary  best 
clothes  upstairs,  and  all  the  furniture  in  the 
entire  house,  and  perhaps  all  Denry's  dandiacal 
wardrobe  too,  except  his  fur  coat.  If  the  entire 
contents  of  the  cottage,  with  the  aforesaid  ex- 
ception, had  been  put  up  to  auction,  they  would 
not  have  realised  enough  to  pay  for  that  sealskin 
mantle. 
14 


210  Denry  the  Audacious 

Had  it  been  anything  but  a  sealskin  mantle, 
and  equally  costly,  Mrs.  Machin  would  have  up- 
braided. But  a  sealskin  mantle  is  not  "  showy." 
It  "  goes  with  "  any  and  every  dress  and  bonnet. 
And  the  most  respectable,  the  most  conservative, 
the  most  austere  woman  may  find  legitimate 
pleasure  in  wearing  it.  A  sealskin  mantle  is 
the  sole  luxurious  ostentation  that  a  woman 
of  Mrs.  Machin's  temperament — and  there  are 
many  such  in  the  Five  Towns  and  elsewhere — 
will  conscientiously  permit  herself. 

"  Try  it  on,"  said  Denry. 

She  rose  weakly  and  tried  it  on.  It  fitted  as 
well  as  a  sealskin  mantle  can  fit. 

"  My  word — it 's  warm ! "  she  said.  This  was 
her  sole  comment. 

"  Keep  it  on,"  said  Denry. 

His  mother's  glance  withered  the  sugges- 
tion. 

"  Where  are  you  going? "  he  asked,  as  she 
left  the  room. 

"  To  put  it  away,"  said  she.  "  I  must  get 
some  moth  powder  to-morrow." 

He  protested  with  inarticulate  noises,  removed 
his  own  furs,  which  he  threw  down  on  to  the 
old  worn-out  sofa,  and  drew  a  Windsor  chair 
up  to  the  fire.  After  a  while  his  mother  re- 
turned, and  sat  down  in  her  rocking-chair,  and 
began  to  shiver  again  under  the  shawl  and  the 
antimacassar.     The  lamp  on   the  table  lighted 


Raising  a  Wigwam  211 

up  the  left  side  of  her  face  and  the  right  side 
of  his. 

"  Look  here,  mother,"  said  he.  "  You  must 
have  a  doctor." 

"  I  shall  have  no  doctor." 

"  You  've  got  influenza,  and  it 's  a  very  tricky 
business — influenza  is;  you  never  know  where 
you  are  with  it." 

"  Ye  can  call  it  influenza  if  ye  like,"  said  Mrs. 
Machin.  "  There  was  no  influenza  in  my  young 
days.     We  called  a  cold  a  cold." 

"  Well,"  said  Denry.  "  You  are  n't  well,  are 
you?  " 

"  I  never  said  I  was,"  she  answered  grimly. 

"  No,"  said  Denry,  with  the  triumphant  ring 
of  one  wiio  is  about  to  devastate  an  enemy. 
"  And  you  never  will  be  in  this  rotten  old 
cottage." 

"  This  was  reckoned  a  very  good  class  of  house 
when  your  father  and  I  came  into  it.  And  it 's 
always  been  kept  in  repair.  It  was  good  enough 
for  your  father,  and  it 's  good  enough  for 
me.  I  don't  see  myself  flitting.  But  some 
folks  have  gotten  so  grand.  As  for  health, 
old  Eeuben  next  door  is  ninety-one.  How 
many  people  over  ninety  are  there  in  those 
grimcrack  houses  up  by  the  Park,  I  should  like 
to  know?" 

Denry  could  argue  with  any  one  save  his 
mother.     Always,  when  he  was  about  to  reduce 


212  Denry  the  Audacious 

her  to  impotence,  she  fell  on  him  thus  and  rolled 
him  in  the  dust.     Still,  he  began  again. 

"  Do  we  pay  four-and-sixpence  a  week  for  this 
cottage,  or  don't  we?  "  he  demanded. 

"  And  always  have  done,"  said  Mrs.  Machin. 
"  I  should  like  to  see  the  landlord  put  it  up !  " 
she  added,  formidably,  as  if  to  say :  "  I  'd  land- 
lord him,  if  he  tried  to  put  my  rent  up!  " 

"  Well,"  said  Denry,  "  here  we  are  living  in 
a  four-and-six  a  week  cottage,  and  do  you  know 
how  much  I  'm  making?  I  'm  making  two  thou- 
sand pounds  a  year.     That 's  what  I  'm  making." 

A  second  wilful  deception  of  his  mother!  As 
managing  director  of  the  Five  Towns  Universal 
Thrift  Club,  as  proprietor  of  the  majority  of  its 
shares,  as  its  absolute  autocrat,  he  was  making 
very  nearly  four  thousand  a  year.  Why  could 
he  not  easily  have  said  four  as  two  to  his  mother? 
The  simple  answer  is  that  he  was  afraid  to  say 
four.  It  was  as  if  he  ought  to  blush  before 
his  mother  for  being  so  plutocratic,  his  mother 
who  had  passed  most  of  her  life  in  hard  toil 
to  gain  a  few  shillings  a  week.  Four  thousand 
seemed  so  fantastic !  And  in  fact  the  Thrift 
Club,  which  he  had  invented  in  a  moment,  had 
arrived  at  a  prodigious  success,  with  its  central 
offices  in  Hanbridge  and  its  branch  offices  in  the 
other  four  towns,  and  its  scores  of  clerks  and 
collectors  presided  over  by  Mr.  Penkethman.  It 
had  met  with  opposition.     The  mighty  said  that 


Raising  a  Wigwam  213 

Denry  was  making  an  unholy  fortune  under  the 
guise  of  philanthropy.  And  to  be  on  the  safe 
side  the  Countess  of  Chell  had  resigned  her 
official  patronage  of  the  Club  and  given  her 
shares  to  the  Pirehill  Infirmary,  which  had  ac- 
cepted the  high  dividends  on  them  without  the 
least  protest.  As  for  Denry,  he  said  that  he  had 
never  set  out  to  be  a  philanthropist  nor  posed 
as  one,  and  that  his  unique  intention  was  to 
grow  rich  by  supplying  a  want,  like  the  rest  of 
them,  and  that  anyhow  there  was  no  compul- 
sion to  belong  to  his  Thrift  Club.  Then  let- 
ters in  his  defence  from  representatives  of  the 
thousands  and  thousands  of  members  of  the  Club 
rained  into  the  columns  of  the  Signal,  and  Denry 
was  the  most  discussed  personage  in  the  county. 
It  was  stated  that  such  thrift  clubs,  under 
various  names,  existed  in  several  large  towns  in 
Yorkshire  and  Lancashire.  This  disclosure  re- 
habilitated Denry  completely  in  general  esteem, 
for  whatever  obtains  in  Yorkshire  and  Lanca- 
shire must  be  right  for  Staffordshire;  but  it 
rather  dashed  Denry,  who  was  obliged  to  admit 
to  himself  that  after  all  he  had  not  invented 
the  Thrift  Club.  Finally  the  hundreds  of  trades- 
men who  had  bound  themselves  to  allow  a  dis- 
count of  twopence  in  the  sliilling  to  the  Club 
(sole  source  of  tlie  Club's  dividends)  had  en- 
deavoured to  revolt.  Denry  effectually  cowed 
them   by   threatening  to   establish   co-operative 


214  Denry  the  Audacious 

stores — there  was  not  a  single  co-operative 
store  in  the  Five  Towns.  They  knew  he  would 
have  the  wild  audacity  to  do  it. 

Tlienceforward  the  progress  of  the  Tlirift  Club 
had  been  unruffled.  Denry  waxed  amazingly  in 
importance.  His  mule  died.  He  dared  not  buy 
a  proper  horse  and  dog-cart  because  he  dared 
not  bring  such  an  equipage  to  the  front  door  of 
his  mother's  four-and-sixpenny  cottage.  So  he 
had  taken  to  cabs.  In  all  exterior  magnificence 
and  lavishness  he  equalled  even  the  great  Harold 
Etches,  of  whom  he  had  once  been  afraid;  and 
like  Etches  he  became  a  famous  habitue  of  Llan- 
dudno pier.  But  whereas  Etches  lived  with  his 
wife  in  a  superb  house  at  Bleakridge,  Denry 
lived  with  his  mother  in  a  ridiculous  cottage  in 
ridiculous  Brougham  Street.  He  had  a  regi- 
ment of  acquaintances,  and  he  accepted  a  lot 
of  hospitality,  but  he  could  not  return  it 
at  Brougham  Street.  His  greatness  fizzled 
into  nothing  in  Brougham  Street.  It  stopped 
short  and  sharp  at  the  corner  of  St.  Luke's 
Square,  where  he  left  his  cabs.  He  could  do 
nothing  with  his  mother.  If  she  was  not  still 
going  out  as  a  sempstress  the  reason  was,  not 
that  slie  was  not  ready  to  go  out,  but  that  her 
old  clients  had  ceased  to  send  for  her.  And 
could  they  be  blamed  for  not  employing  at  three 
shillings  a  day  the  motlier  of  a  young  man  who 
wallowed   in   thousands   sterling?      Denry   had 


Raising  a  Wigwam  215 

essayed  over  and  over  again  to  instil  reason 
into  his  mother,  and  he  had  invariably  failed. 
She  was  too  independent,  too  profoundly  rooted 
in  her  habits;  and  her  character  had  more  force 
than  his.  Of  course,  he  might  have  left  her  and 
set  up  a  suitably  gorgeous  house  of  his  own. 

But  he  would  not. 

In  fact,  they  were  a  remarkable  pair. 

On  this  eve  of  her  birthday  he  had  meant  to 
cajole  her  into  some  step,  to  win  her  by  an 
appeal,  basing  his  argument  on  her  indisposition. 
But  he  was  being  beaten  off  once  more.  The 
truth  was  that  a  cajoling,  caressing  tone  could 
not  be  long  employed  towards  Mrs.  Machin.  She 
was  not  persuasive  herself,  nor  favourable  to 
persuasiveness  in  others. 

"  Well,"  said  she,  "  if  you  're  making  two  thou- 
sand a  year,  ye  can  spend  it  or  save  it  as  ye 
like,  though  ye  'd  better  save  it.  Ye  never  know 
what  may  happen  in  these  days.  There  was  a 
man  dropped  half-a-crown  down  a  grid  opposite 
only  the  day  before  yesterday." 

Denry  laughed. 

"Ay!"  she  said;  "ye  can  laugh." 

"  There  's  no  doubt  about  one  thing,"  he  said, 
"  you  ought  to  be  in  bed.  You  ought  to  stay  in 
bed  for  two  or  three  days  at  least." 

"  Yes,"  she  said.  "  And  who  's  going  to  look 
after  the  house  while  I  'm  moping  between 
blankets?  " 


2i6  Denry  the  Audacious 

"  You  can  have  Rose  Chudd  in,"  he  said. 

"  No,"  said  she.  "  I  'm  not  going  to  have  any 
woman  rummaging  about  my  house,  and  me  in 
bed!" 

"  You  know  perfectly  well  she 's  been  prac- 
tically starving  since  her  husband  died,  and  as 
she  's  going  out  charing,  why  can't  you  have  her 
and  put  a  bit  of  bread  into  her  mouth?" 

"  Because  I  won't  have  her !  Neither  her  nor 
any  one.  There  's  naught  to  prevent  you  giving 
her  some  o'  your  two  thousand  a  year,  if  you  've 
a  mind.  But  I  see  no  reason  for  my  house 
being  turned  upside  down  by  her,  even  if  I  have 
got  a  bit  of  a  cold." 

"  You  're  an  unreasonable  old  woman,"  said 
Denry. 

"  Happen  I  am !  "  said  she.  "  There  can't  be 
two  wise  ones  in  a  family.  But  I  'm  not  going 
to  give  up  this  cottage,  and  as  long  as  I 
am  standing  on  my  feet  I  'm  not  going  to 
pay  any  one  for  doing  what  I  can  do  better 
myself."  A  pause.  "  And  so  you  need  n't  think 
it!  You  can't  come  round  me  with  a  fur 
mantle." 

She  retired  to  rest.  On  the  following  morn- 
ing he  was  very  glum. 

"  Ye  need  n't  be  so  glum,"  she  said. 

But  she  was  rather  pleased  at  his  glumness. 
For  in  his  glumness  was  a  sign  that  he  recog- 
nised defeat. 


Raising  a  Wigwam  217 

II 

The  next  episode  between  them  was  curiously 
brief.  Denry  had  influenza.  He  said  that 
naturally  he  had  caught  hers. 

He  went  to  bed  and  stayed  there.  She  nursed 
him  all  day,  and  grew  angry  in  a  vain  attempt 
to  force  him  to  eat.  Towards  night  he  tossed 
furiously  on  the  little  bed  in  the  little  bed- 
room, complaining  of  fearful  headaches.  She  re- 
mained by  his  side  most  of  the  night.  In  the 
morning  he  was  easier.  Neither  of  them  men- 
tioned the  word  "  doctor."  She  spent  the  day 
largely  on  the  stairs.  Once  more  towards  night 
he  grew  worse,  and  she  remained  most  of  the 
second  night  by  his  side. 

In  the  sinister  winter  dawn  Denry  murmured 
in  a  feeble  tone: 

"  Mother,  you  'd  better  send  for  him." 

"  Doctor?  "  she  said.  And  secretly  she  thought 
that  she  had  better  send  for  the  doctor,  and  that 
there  must  be  after  all  some  difference  between 
influenza  and  a  cold. 

"  No,"  said  Denry;  "  send  for  young  Lawton." 

"  Young  Lawton  !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  What 
do  you  want  young  Lawton  to  come  here 
for?  " 

"  I  have  n't  made  my  will,"  Denry  answered. 

"  Pooh  !  "  she  retorted. 

Nevertheless  she  was  the  least  bit  in  the  world 


2i8  Denry  the  Audacious 

frightened.  And  slie  sent  for  Dr.  Stirling,  the 
aged  Harrop's  Scotch  partner. 

Dr.  Stirling,  who  was  full-bodied  and  left 
little  space  for  anybody  else  in  the  tiny,  shabby 
bedroom  of  the  man  with  four  thousand  a  year, 
gazed  at  Mrs.  Machin,  and  he  gazed  also  at 
Denry. 

"  Ye  must  go  to  bed  this  minute,"  said  he. 

"  But  he  's  in  bed,"  cried  Mrs.  Machin. 

"  I  mean  yerself,"  said  Dr.  Stirling. 

She  was  very  nearly  at  the  end  of  her  re- 
sources. And  the  proof  was  that  she  had  no 
strength  left  to  fight  Dr.  Stirling.  She  did  go 
to  bed.  And  shortly  afterwards  Denry  got  up. 
And  a  little  later.  Rose  Chudd,  that  prim  and 
efficient  young  widow  from  lower  down  the 
street,  came  into  the  house  and  controlled  it  as 
if  it  had  been  her  own.  Mrs.  Machin,  whose 
constitution  was  hardy,  arose  in  about  a  week, 
cured,  and  duly  dismissed  Rose  with  wages  and 
without  thanks.  But  Rose  had  been.  Like  the 
Sifjnars  burglars,  she  had  "  effected  an  en- 
trance." And  the  house  had  not  been  turned 
upside  down.  Mrs.  Machin,  though  she  tried, 
could  not  find  fault  witli  the  result  of  Rose's 
uncontrolled  activities. 

Ill 

One  morning — and  not  very  long  afterwards ; 


Raising  a  Wigwam  219 

in  such  wise  did  fate  seem  to  favour  the  young 
at  the  expense  of  the  old — Mrs.  Maehin  received 
two  letters  which  alarmed  and  disgusted  her. 
One  was  from  her  landlord  announcing  that  he 
had  sold  the  house  in  which  she  lived  to  a  Mr. 
Wilbraham  of  London,  and  that  in  future  she 
must  pay  the  rent  to  the  said  Mr.  Wilbraham 
or  his  legal  representatives.  The  other  was 
from  a  firm  of  London  solicitors  announcing 
that  their  client  Mr.  Wilbraham  had  bought  the 
house  and  that  the  rent  must  be  paid  to  their 
agent  whom  they  would  name  later. 

Mrs.  Maehin  gave  vent  to  her  emotion  in  her 
customary  manner: 

"  Bless  us !  " 

And  she  showed  the  impudent  letters  to  Denry. 

"  Oh !  "  said  Denry.  "  So  he  has  bought  them, 
has  he?     I  heard  he  was  going  to." 

"Them?"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Maehin.  "What 
else  has  he  bought?  " 

"  I  expect  he  's  bought  all  the  five — this  and 
the  four  below,  as  far  as  Downes's.  I  expect 
you  '11  find  that  the  other  four  have  had  notices 
just  like  these.  You  know  all  this  row  used  to 
belong  to  the  Wilbrahams.  You  surely  must 
remember  that,  mother?  " 

"  Is  he  one  of  the  Wilbrahams  of  Hillport, 
then?" 

"  Yes,  of  course  he  is." 

"  I  thought  the  last  of  'em  was  Cecil,  and 


220  Denry  the  Audacious 

when  he  'd  beggared  himself  here  he  went  to 
Australia  and  died  of  drink.  That 's  what  I 
always  heard.  We  always  used  to  say  as  there 
was  n't  a  Wilbraham  left." 

"  He  did  go  to  Australia,  but  he  did  n't  die 
of  drink.  He  disappeared,  and  when  he  'd  made 
a  fortune  he  turned  up  again  in  Sydney,  so  it 
seems.  I  heard  he  's  thinking  of  coming  back 
here  to  settle.  Anyhow,  he  's  buying  up  a  lot 
of  the  Wilbraham  property.  I  should  have 
thought  you  'd  have  heard  of  it.  Why,  lots  of 
people  have  been  talking  about  it." 

"  Well,"  said  Mrs.  Machin,  "  I  don't  like  it." 

She  objected  to  a  law  which  permitted  a  land- 
lord to  sell  a  house  over  the  head  of  a  tenant  who 
had  occupied  it  for  more  than  thirty  years.  In 
the  course  of  the  morning  she  discovered  that 
Denry  was  right — the  other  tenants  had  received 
notices  exactly  similar  to  hers. 

Two  days  later  Denry  arrived  home  for  tea 
with  a  most  surprising  article  of  news.  Mr. 
Cecil  Wilbraliam  had  been  down  to  Bursley  from 
London,  and  had  visited  him,  Denry.  Mr.  Cecil 
Wilbraham's  local  information  was  evidently 
quite  out  of  date,  for  he  had  imagined  Denry  to 
be  a  rent-collector  and  estate  agent,  whereas  the 
fact  was  that  Denry  had  abandoned  this  minor 
vocation  years  ago.  His  desire  had  been  that 
Denry  should  collect  his  rents  and  watch  over 
his  growing  interests  in  the  district. 


Raising  a  Wigwam  221 

"  So  what  did  you  tell  him? "  asked  Mrs. 
Machin. 

"  I  told  him  I  'd  do  it,"  said  Denry. 

"  Why?  " 

"  I  thought  it  might  be  safer  for  you"  said 
Denry  with  a  certain  emphasis.  "  And,  besides, 
it  looked  as  if  it  might  be  a  bit  of  a  lark.  He  's 
a  very  peculiar  chap." 

"  Peculiar?  " 

"For  one  thing,  he's  got  the  largest  moustaches 
of  any  man  I  ever  saw.  And  there  's  something 
up  with  his  left  eye.  And  then  I  think  he  's  a 
bit  mad." 

"Mad?" 

"  Well,  touched.  He 's  got  a  notion  about 
building  a  funny  sort  of  a  house  for  himself 
on  a  plot  of  land  at  Bleakridge.  It  appears 
he 's  fond  of  living  alone,  and  he 's  collected 
all  kind  of  dodges  for  doing  without  servants 
and  still  being  comfortable." 

"  Ay !  But  he  's  right  there !  "  breathed  Mrs. 
Machin  in  deep  sympathy.  As  she  said  about 
once  a  week,  "  she  never  could  abide  the  idea  of 
servants."  "He's  not  married,  then?"  she 
added. 

"  He  told  me  he  'd  been  a  widower  three  times, 
but  he  'd  never  had  any  children,"  said  Denry. 

"  Bless  us !  "  murmured  Mrs.  Machin. 

Denry  was  the  one  person  in  the  town  who 
enjoyed  the  acquaintance  and  the  confidence  of 


222  Denry  the  Audacious 

the  thrice-widowed  stranger  with  loug  mous- 
taches. He  had  descended  without  notice  on 
Bursley,  seen  Denry  (at  the  branch  office  of  the 
Thrift  Club),  and  then  departed.  It  was  un- 
derstood that  later  he  would  permanently  settle 
in  the  district.  Then  the  wonderful  house  be- 
gan to  rise  on  the  plot  of  land  at  Bleakridge. 
Denry  had  general  charge  of  it,  but  always 
subject  to  erratic  and  autocratic  instructions 
from  London.  Thanks  to  Denry,  who  since  the 
historic  episode  at  Llandudno  had  remained  very 
friendly  with  the  Cotterill  family,  Mr.  Cotterill 
had  the  job  of  building  the  house;  the  plans 
came  from  London.  And  though  Mr.  Cecil  Wil- 
braham  proved  to  be  exceedingly  watchful 
against  any  form  of  imposition,  the  job  was  a 
remunerative  one  for  Mr.  Cotterill,  who  talked 
a  great  deal  about  the  originality  of  the  resi- 
dence. The  town  judged  of  the  wealth  and  im- 
portance of  Mr.  Cecil  Wilbraham  by  the  fact 
that  a  person  so  wealthy  and  important  as  Denry 
should  be  content  to  act  as  his  agent.  But  then 
the  Wilbrahams  had  been  magnates  in  the  Burs- 
ley  region  for  generations,  up  till  the  final  Wil- 
braham smash  in  the  late  seventies.  The  town 
hungered  to  see  those  huge  moustaches  and  that 
peculiar  eye.  In  addition  to  Denry,  only  one 
person  had  seen  the  madman,  and  that  person 
was  Nellie  Cotterill,  who  had  been  viewing  tlie 
half-built  house  with  Denry  one  Sunday  morn- 


Raising  a  Wigwam  223 

ing  when  the  madman  had  most  astonishingly 
arrived  upon  the  scene,  and  after  a  few  minutes 
vanished.  The  building  of  the  house  strength- 
ened greatly  the  friendship  between  Denry  and 
the  Cotterills.  Yet  Denry  neither  liked  Mr. 
Cotterill  nor  trusted  him. 

The  next  incident  in  these  happenings  was 
that  Mrs.  Machin  received  notice  from  the  Lon- 
don firm  to  quit  her  four-and-sixpence  a  week 
cottage.  It  seemed  to  her  that  not  merely 
Brougham  Street,  but  the  world,  was  coming  to 
an  end.  She  was  very  angry  with  Denry  for  not 
protecting  her  more  successfully.  He  was  Mr. 
Wilbraham's  agent,  he  collected  the  rent,  and  it 
was  his  duty  to  guard  his  mother  from  unpleas- 
antness. She  observed,  however,  that  he  was 
remarkably  disturbed  by  the  notice,  and  he  as- 
sured her  that  Mr.  Wilbraham  had  not  consulted 
him  in  the  matter  at  all.  He  wrote  a  letter  to 
London,  which  she  signed,  demanding  the  reason 
of  this  absurd  notice  flung  at  an  ancient  and 
perfect  tenant.  The  reply  was  that  Mr.  Wil- 
braham intended  to  pull  the  houses  down, 
beginning  with  Mrs.  Machin's,  and  rebuild. 

"  Pooh ! "  said  Denry.  "  Don't  you  worry 
your  head,  mother ;  I  shall  arrange  it.  He  '11 
be  down  here  soon  to  see  his  new  house — it 's 
practically  finished,  and  the  furniture  is  coming 
in — and  I  '11  just  talk  to  him." 

But  Mr.  Wilbraham  did  not  come,  the  expla- 


224  Denry  the  Audacious 

nation  doubtless  being  that  lie  was  mad.  On 
the  other  hand,  fresh  notices  came  with  amaz- 
ing frequency.  Mrs.  Machin  just  handed  them 
over  to  Denry.  And  then  Denry  received  a 
telegram  to  say  that  Mr.  Wilbraham  would  be 
at  his  new  house  that  night  and  wished  to  see 
Denry  there.  Unfortunately,  on  the  same  day, 
by  the  afternoon  post,  while  Denry  was  at  his 
offices,  there  arrived  a  sort  of  supreme  and  ulti- 
mate notice  from  London  to  Mrs.  Machin,  and 
it  was  on  blue  paper.  It  stated,  baldly,  that  as 
Mrs.  Machin  had  failed  to  comply  with  all  the 
previous  notices,  had  indeed  ignored  them,  she 
and  her  goods  would  now  be  ejected  into  the 
street  according  to  the  law.  It  gave  her  twenty- 
four  hours  to  flit.  Never  had  a  respectable  dame 
been  so  insulted  as  Mrs.  Machin  was  insulted 
by  that  notice.  The  prospect  of  camping  out  in 
Brougham  Street  confronted  her.  When  Denry 
reached  home  that  evening  Mrs.  Machin,  as  the 
phrase  is,  "  gave  it  him." 

Denry  admitted  frankly  that  he  was  non- 
plussed, staggered,  and  outraged.  But  the  thing 
was  simply  another  proof  of  Mr.  Wilbraham's 
madness.  After  tea  he  decided  that  his  mother 
must  put  on  her  best  clothes  and  go  up  with 
him  to  see  Mr.  Wilbraham  and  firmly  expostulate 
— in  fact,  they  would  arrange  the  situation  be- 
tween them ;  and  if  Mr.  Wilbraham  was  obstinate 
they   would  defy   Mr.   Wilbraham.     Denry   ex- 


Raising  a  Wigwam  225 

plained  to  his  motlier  that  an  Englishwoman's 
cottage  was  her  castle,  that  a  landlord's  min- 
ions had  no  right  to  force  an  entrance,  and  that 
the  one  thing  that  Mr.  Wilbraham  could  do  was 
to  begin  unbuilding  the  cottage  from  the  top, 
outside.  And  he  would  like  to  see  Mr.  Wil- 
braham try  it  on ! 

So   the  sealskin   mantle    (for   it   was  spring 
again)  went  up  with  Denry  to  Bleakridge. 


IV 


The  moon  shone  in  the  chill  night.  The  house 
stood  back  from  Trafalgar  Eoad  in  the  moon- 
light— a  squarish  block  of  a  building. 

"  Oh ! "  said  Mrs.  Machin.  "  It  is  n't  so 
large," 

"  No !  He  did  n't  want  it  large.  He  only 
wanted  it  large  enough,"  said  Denry,  and  pushed 
a  button  to  the  right  of  the  front  door.  There 
was  no  reply,  though  they  heard  the  ringing  of 
the  bell  inside.  They  waited.  Mrs.  Machin  was 
very  nervous,  but  thanks  to  her  sealskin  mantle 
she  was  not  cold. 

"  This  is  a  funny  doorstep,"  she  remarked,  to 
kill  time. 

"  It 's  of  marble,"  said  Denry. 

"What's  that  for?"  asked  his  mother. 

"  So  much  easier  to  keep  clean,"  said  Denry. 
"  No  stoning  to  do." 

IS 


226  Denry  the  Audacious 

"  Well,"  said  Mrs.  Machin.  "  It 's  pretty 
dirty  now,  anyway." 

It  was. 

"  Quite  simple  to  clean,"  said  Denry,  bending 
down.  "  You  just  turn  this  tap  at  the  side. 
You  see,  it 's  so  arranged  that  it  sends  a  flat 
jet  along  the  step.     Stand  off  a  second." 

He  turned  the  tap,  and  the  step  was  washed 
pure  in  a  moment. 

"  How  is  it  that  that  water  steams? "  Mrs. 
Machin  demanded. 

"  Because  it 's  hot,"  said  Denry.  "  Did  you 
ever  know  water  steam  for  any  other  rea- 
son?" 

"  Hot  water  outside?  " 

"  Just  as  easy  to  have  hot  water  outside  as 
inside,  is  n't  it?  "  said  Denry. 

"  Well,  I  never ! "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Machin. 
She  was  impressed. 

"  That 's  how  everything 's  dodged  up  in 
this  house,"  said  Denry.  He  shut  off  the 
water. 

And  he  rang  once  again.  No  answer!  No 
illumination  within  the  abode! 

"  I  tell  you  what  I  shall  do,"  said  Denry  at 
length.  "  I  shall  let  myself  in.  I  've  got  a  key 
of  the  back  door." 

"  Are  you  sure  it 's  all  right?  " 

"  I  don't  care  if  it  is  n't  all  right,"  said  Denry 
defiantly.     "  He  asked  me  to  be  up  here,  and 


Raising  a  Wigwam  227 

he  ought  to  be  here  to  meet  me.  I  'm  not  going 
to  stand  any  nonsense  from  anybody." 

In  they  went,  having  skirted  round  the  walls 
of  the  house. 

Denry  closed  the  door,  pushed  a  switch,  and 
the  electric  light  shone.  Electric  light  was  then 
quite  a  novelty  in  Bursley.  Mrs.  Machin  had 
never  seen  it  in  action.  She  had  to  admit  that 
it  was  less  complicated  than  oil-lamps.  In  the 
kitchen  the  electric  light  blazed  upon  walls  tiled 
in  grey  and  a  floor  tiled  in  black  and  wliite. 
There  was  a  gas  range  and  a  marble  slopstone 
with  two  taps.  The  woodwork  was  dark.  Earth- 
enware saucepans  stood  on  a  shelf.  The  cup- 
boards were  full  of  gear  chiefly  in  earthenware. 
Denry  began  to  exhibit  to  his  mother  a  tank 
provided  with  ledges  and  shelves  and  grooves, 
in  which  he  said  that  everything  except  knives 
could  be  washed  and  dried  automatically. 

"  Had  n't  you  better  go  and  find  your  Mr. 
Wilbraham?"  she  interrupted. 

"  So  I  had,"  said  Denry ;  "  I  was  forgetting 
him." 

She  heard  him  wandering  over  the  house  and 
calling  in  divers  tones  upon  Mr.  Wilbraham. 
But  she  heard  no  other  voice.  Meanwhile  she 
examined  the  kitchen  in  detail,  appreciating 
some  of  its  devices  and  failing  to  comprehend 
others. 

"  I  expect  he  's  missed  the  train,"  said  Denry, 


228  Denry  the  Audacious 

coming  back.  "  Anyhow,  he  is  n't  here.  I 
may  as  well  show  you  the  rest  of  the  house 
now." 

He  led  her  into  the  hall,  which  was  radiantly 
lighted. 

"  It 's  quite  warm  here,"  said  Mrs.  Machin. 

"  The  whole  house  is  heated  by  steam,"  said 
Denry.     "  No  fireplaces." 

"  No  fireplaces !  " 

"  No !  No  fireplaces.  No  grates  to  polish, 
ashes  to  carry  down,  coals  to  carry  up,  mantel- 
pieces to  dust,  fire-irons  to  clean,  fenders  to 
polish,  chimneys  to  sweep." 

"  And  suppose  he  wants  a  bit  of  fire  all  of 
a  sudden  in  summer." 

"  Gas  stove  in  every  room  for  emergencies," 
said  Denry. 

She  glanced  into  a  room. 

"But,"  she  cried,  "It's  all  complete,  ready! 
And  as  warm  as  toast." 

"  Yes,"  said  Denry.  "  He  gave  orders.  I 
can't  think  why  on  earth  he  isn't  here." 

At  that  moment  an  electric  bell  rang  loud 
and  sharp,  and  Mrs.  Machin  jumped. 

"  There  he  is ! "  said  Denry,  moving  to  the 
door. 

"Bless  us!  What  will  he  think  of  us  being 
here  like?  "  Mrs,  Machin  mumbled. 

"  Pooh !  "  said  Denry  carelessly. 

And  he  opened  the  door. 


Raising  a  Wigwam  229 

V 

Three  persons  stood  on  the  newly  washed 
marble  step — Mr.  and  Mrs.  Cotterill  and  their 
daughter  Nellie. 

"  Oh !  Come  in !  Come  in !  Make  yourselves 
quite  at  home.  That 's  what  we  're  doing,"  said 
Denry  in  blithe  greeting;  and  added,  "  I  suppose 
he's  invited  you  too?" 

And  it  appeared  that  Mr.  Cecil  Wilbraham 
had  indeed  invited  them  too.  He  had  written 
from  London  saying  that  he  would  be  glad  if 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Cotterill  would  "  drop  in  "  on 
this  particular  evening.  Further,  he  had  men- 
tioned that,  as  he  had  already  had  the  pleasure 
of  meeting  Miss  Cotterill,  perhaps  she  would 
accompany  her  parents. 

"  Well,  he  is  n't  here,"  said  Denry,  shaking 
hands.  "  He  must  have  missed  his  train  or 
something.  He  can't  possibly  be  here  now  till 
to-morrow.  But  the  house  seems  to  be  all  ready 
for  him.  .  .  ." 

"  Yes,  my  word !  And  how  's  yourself,  :Mrs. 
Cotterill?"  put  in  Mrs.  Machin. 

"  So  we  may  as  well  look  over  it  in  its  finished 
state.  I  suppose  that 's  what  he  asked  us  up 
for,"  Denry  concluded. 

Mrs.  Machin  explained  quickly  and  nervously 
that  she  had  not  been  comprised  in  any  invita- 
tion; that  her  errand  was  pure  business. 


230  Denry  the  Audacious 

"Come  on  up-stairs,"  Denry  called  out,  turning 
switclies  and  adding  radiance  to  radiance. 

"  Denry !  "  his  mother  protested.  "  I  'm  sure 
I  don't  know  what  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Cotterill  will 
think  of  you!  You  carry  on  as  if  you  owned 
everything  in  the  place.     I  wonder  at  you!  " 

"  Well,"  said  Denry,  "  if  anybody  in  this  town 
is  tlie  owner's  agent  I  am.  And  Mr.  Cotterill 
has  built  the  blessed  house.  If  Wilbraham 
wanted  to  ^^eep  his  old  shanty  to  himself  he 
should  n't  send  out  invitations.  It 's  simple 
enough  not  to  send  out  invitations.  Now 
Nellie !  " 

He  was  hanging  over  the  balustrade  at  the 
curve  of  the  stairs. 

The  familiar  ease  with  which  he  said  "  Now 
Nellie,"  and  especially  the  spontaneity  of  Nellie's 
instant  response,  put  new  thoughts  into  the  mind 
of  Mrs.  Machin.  But  she  neither  pricked  up 
her  ears,  nor  started  back,  nor  accomplished  any 
of  the  acrobatic  feats  which  an  ordinary  mother 
of  a  wealthy  son  would  have  performed  under 
similar  circumstances.  Her  ears  did  not  even 
tremble.     And  she  just  said: 

"  I  like  this  balustrade  knob  being  of  black 
china." 

"  Every  knob  in  the  house  is  of  black  china," 
said  Denry.  "  Never  shows  dirt.  But  if  you 
should  take  it  into  your  head  to  clean  it,  you 
can  do  it  with  a  damp  cloth  in  a  second." 


Raising  a  Wigwam  231 

Nellie  now  stood  beside  bim.  Nellie  bad 
grown  up  since  tbe  Llandudno  episode.  Sbe 
did  not  blusb  at  a  glance.  Wben  spoken  to 
suddenly  sbe  could  answer  witbout  torture  to 
berself.  Sbe  could,  in  fact,  maintain  a  conver- 
sation witbout  breaking  down  for  a  mucb  longer 
time  than,  a  few  years  ago,  she  bad  been  able 
to  skip  witbout  breaking  down.  She  no  longer 
imagined  that  all  tbe  people  in  tbe  street  were 
staring  at  her,  anxious  to  find  faults  in  her 
appearance.  Sbe  had  temporarily  ruined  the 
lives  of  several  amiable  and  fairly  innocent 
young  men  by  refusing  to  marry  them.  (For 
sbe  was  pretty,  and  her  father  cut  a  figure  in 
the  town,  though  her  mother  did  not.)  And 
yet,  despite  tbe  immense  accumulation  of  her 
experiences  and  tbe  weight  of  her  varied  know- 
ledge of  human  nature,  there  was  something  very 
girlish  and  timidly  roguish  about  her  as  sbe 
stood  on  the  stairs  near  Denry,  waiting  for  the 
elder  generation  to  follow.  The  old  Nellie  still 
lived  in  her. 

Tbe  party  passed  to  the  first  floor. 

And  tbe  first  fioor  exceeded  tbe  ground  floor 
in  marvels.  In  each  bedroom  two  aluminum 
taps  poured  hot  and  cold  water  respectively  into 
a  marble  basin,  and  below  the  marble  basin  was 
a  sink.  No  porterage  of  water  anywhere  in  the 
house.  Tbe  water  came  to  you,  and  every  room 
consumed  its  own  slops.     The  bedsteads  were  of 


232  Denry  the  Audacious 

black  enamelled  iron  and  very  light.  The  floors 
were  covered  with  linoleum,  with  a  few  rugs 
that  could  be  shaken  with  one  hand.  The  walls 
were  painted  with  grey  enamel.  Mrs.  Cotterill, 
with  her  all-seeing  eye,  observed  a  detail  that 
Mrs.  Machin  had  missed.  There  were  no  sharp 
corners  anywhere.  Every  corner,  every  angle 
between  wall  and  floor  or  wall  and  wall,  was 
rounded,  to  facilitate  cleaning.  And  every  wall, 
floor,  ceiling,  and  fixture  could  be  washed, 
and  all  the  furniture  was  enamelled  and  could 
be  wiped  with  a  cloth  in  a  moment  instead  of 
having  to  be  polished  with  three  cloths  and  many 
odours  in  a  day  and  a  half.  The  bathroom  was 
absolutely  waterproof;  you  could  spray  it  with 
a  hose,  and  by  means  of  a  gas  apparatus  you 
could  produce  an  endless  supply  of  hot  water 
independent  of  the  general  supply.  Denry  was 
apparently  familiar  with  each  detail  of  Mr. 
Wilbraham's  manifold  contrivances,  and  he  ex- 
plained them  with  an  enormous  gusto. 

"Bless  us!"  said  Mrs.  Machin. 

"  Bless  us!  "  said  Mrs.  Cotterill  (doubtless  the 
force  of  example). 

They  descended  to  the  dining-room,  where  a 
supper  table  had  been  laid  by  order  of  the  in- 
visible Mr.  Cecil  Wilbraham.  And  there  the 
ladies  lauded  Mr.  Wilbraham's  wisdom  in  es- 
chewing silver.  Everytliing  of  the  table  service 
that  could  be  of  earthenware  was  of  earthen- 


Raising  a  Wigwam  233 

ware.     The  forks  and  spoons  were  electro-plate. 

"  Why !  "  Mrs.  Cotterill  said,  "  I  could  run 
this  house  without  a  servant  and  have  myself 
tidy  by  ten  o'clock  in  a  morning." 

And  Mrs.  Machin  nodded. 

"  And  then  when  you  want  a  regular  turn- 
out, as  you  call  it,"  said  Denry,  "  there  's  the 
vacuum  cleaner." 

The  vacuum  cleaner  was  at  that  period  the 
last  word  of  civilisation,  and  the  first  agency 
for  it  was  being  set  up  in  Bursley.  Denry  ex- 
plained the  vacuum  cleaner  to  the  housewives, 
who  had  got  no  further  than  a  Ewbank.  And 
they  again  called  down  blessings  on  themselves. 

"  What  price  this  supper?  "  Denry  exclaimed. 
"  We  ought  to  eat  it.  I  'm  sure  he  'd  like  us 
to  eat  it.  Do  sit  down,  all  of  you.  I  '11  take  the 
consequences." 

Mrs.  Machin  hesitated  even  more  than  the 
other  ladies. 

"  It 's  really  very  strange,  him  not  being 
here !  "     She  shook  her  head.  > 

"  Don't  I  tell  you  he  's  quite  mad,"  said  Denry. 

"  I  should  n't  think  he  was  so  mad  as  all  that," 
said  Mrs.  Machin  dryly.  "  This  is  the  most  sen- 
sible kind  of  a  house  I  've  ever  seen." 

"Oh!  Is  it?"  Denry  answered.  "Great 
Scott!  I  never  noticed  those  three  bottles  of 
wine  on  the  sideboard." 

At  length  he  succeeded  in  seating  them  at  the 


234  Denry  the  Audacious 

table.  Thenceforward  there  was  no  difficulty. 
The  ample  and  diversified  cold  supper  began 
to  disappear  steadily,  and  the  wine  with  it.  And 
as  tlie  wine  disappeared  so  did  Mr.  Cotterill 
(who  had  been  pompous  and  taciturn)  grow 
talkative,  offering  to  the  company  the  exact 
figures  of  the  cost  of  the  house  and  so  forth. 
But  ultimately  the  sheer  joy  of  life  killed 
arithmetic. 

Mrs.  Machin,  however,  could  not  quite  rid 
herself  of  the  notion  that  she  was  in  a  dream 
that  outraged  the  proprieties.  The  entire  affair, 
for  an  unromantic  spot  like  Bursley,  was  too 
fantastically  and  wickedly  romantic. 

"  We  must  be  thinking  about  home,  Denry," 
said  she. 

"Plenty  of  time,"  Denry  replied.  "What! 
All  that  wine  gone !  I  '11  see  if  there  's  any  more 
in  the  sideboard." 

He  emerged,  with  a  red  face,  from  bending 
into  the  deeps  of  the  enamelled  sideboard,  and 
a  wine-bottle  was  in  his  triumphant  hand.  It 
had  already  been  opened. 

"  Hooray ! "  he  proclaimed,  pouring  a  white 
wine  into  his  glass  and  raising  the  glass: 
"  Here  's  to  the  health  of  Mr.  Cecil  Wilbraham." 

He  made  a  brave  tableau  in  the  brightness  of 
the  electric  light. 

Then  he  drank.  Then  he  dropped  the  glass, 
which  broke. 


Raising  a  Wigwam  235 

"Ugh!  What's  that?"  he  demanded,  with 
the  distorted  features  of  a  gargoyle. 

His  mother,  who  was  seated  next  to  him,  seized 
the  bottle.  Denry's  hand,  in  clasping  the  bottle, 
had  hidden  a  small  label,  which  said :  '^  Poison. 
Nettleshijfs  Patent  Enamel-Cleaning  Fluid.  One 
wipe  does  it.'' 

Confusion!  Only  Nellie  Cotterill  seemed  to 
be  incapable  of  realising  that  a  grave  accident 
had  occurred.  She  had  laughed  throughout  the 
supper,  and  she  still  laughed,  hysterically,  though 
she  had  drunk  scarcely  any  wine.  Her  mother 
silenced  her. 

Denry  was  the  first  to  recover. 

"  It  '11  be  all  right,"  said  he,  leaning  back  in 
his  chair.  "  They  always  put  a  bit  of  poison 
in  those  things.  It  can't  hurt  me,  really.  I 
never  noticed  the  label." 

Mrs.  Machin  smelt  at  the  bottle.  She  could 
detect  no  odour,  but  the  fact  that  she  could 
detect  no  odour  appeared  only  to  increase  her 
alarm. 

"  You  must  have  an  emetic  instantly,"  she 
said. 

"  Oh,  no !  "  said  Denry.  "  I  shall  be  all  right." 
And  he  did  seem  to  be  suddenly  restored. 

"  You  must  have  an  emetic  instantly,"  she 
repeated. 

"  What  can  I  have?  "  he  grumbled.  "  You 
can't  expect  to  find  emetics  here." 


236  Denry  the  Audacious 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  can,"  said  she.  "  I  saw  a  mustard 
tin  in  a  cupboard  in  the  kitchen.  Come  along 
now,  and  don't  be  silly." 

Nellie's  hysteric  mirth  surged  up  again. 

Denry  objected  to  accompanying  his  mother 
into  the  kitchen.  But  he  was  forced  to  submit. 
She  shut  the  door  on  both  of  them.  It  is  pro- 
bable that  during  the  seven  minutes  which  they 
spent  mysteriously  together  in  the  kitchen,  the 
practicability  of  the  kitchen  apparatus  for  carry- 
ing off  waste  products  was  duly  tested.  Denry 
came  forth,  very  pale  and  very  cross,  on  his 
mother's  arm. 

"  There 's  no  danger  now,"  said  his  mother 
easily. 

Naturally  the  party  was  at  an  end.  The 
Cotterills  sympathised,  and  prepared  to  depart, 
and  inquired  whether  Denry  could  walk  home. 

Denry  replied,  from  a  sofa,  in  a  weak,  expir- 
ing voice,  that  he  was  perfectly  incapable  of 
walking  home,  that  his  sensations  were  in  the 
highest  degree  disconcerting,  that  he  should 
sleep  in  that  house,  as  the  bedrooms  were  ready 
for  occupation,  and  that  he  should  expect  his 
mother  to  remain  with  him. 

And  Mrs.  Machin  had  to  concur.  Mrs.  Machin 
sped  the  Cotterills  from  the  door  as  though  it 
had  been  her  own  door.  She  was  exceedingly 
angry  and  agitated.  But  she  could  not  impart 
her  feelings  to  the  suffering  Denry.     He  moaned 


Raising  a  Wigwam  237 

on  a  bed  for  about  half  an  hour,  and  then  fell 
asleep.  And  in  the  middle  of  the  night,  in  the 
dark  strange  house,  she  also  fell  asleep. 


VI 


The  next  morning  she  arose  and  went  forth, 
and  in  about  hali-an-hour  returned.  Denry 
was  still  in  bed,  but  his  health  seemed  to  have 
resumed  its  normal  excellence.  Mrs.  Machin 
burst  upon  him  in  such  a  state  of  complicated 
excitement  as  he  had  never  before  seen  her  in. 

"  Denry,"  she  cried.     "  What  do  you  think?  " 

"What?"  said  he. 

"  I  've  just  been  down  home,  and  they  're — 
they  're  pulling  the  house  down.  All  the  fur- 
niture 's  out,  and  they  've  got  all  the  tiles  off 
the  roof,  and  the  windows  out.  And  there 's  a 
regular  crowd  watching." 

Denry  sat  up. 

"  And  I  can  tell  you  another  piece  of  news," 
said  he.     "  Mr.  Cecil  Wilbraham  is  dead." 

"  Dead !  "  she  breathed. 

"  Yes,"  said  Denry.  "  I  think  he 's  served  his 
purpose.  As  we  're  here,  we  '11  stop  here.  Don't 
forget  it 's  the  most  sensible  kind  of  a  house 
you  've  ever  seen.  Don't  forget  that  Mrs.  Cot- 
terill  could  run  it  without  a  servant  and  have 
herself  tidy  by  ten  o'clock  in  a  morning." 

Mrs.    Machin   perceived   then,   in   a  flash   of 


238  Denry  the  Audacious 

terrible  illumination,  that  there  never  had  been 
any  Cecil  Wilbraham;  that  Denry  had  merely 
invented  him  and  his  long  moustaches  and  his 
wall  eye  for  the  purpose  of  getting  the  better 
of  his  mother.  The  whole  affair  was  an  im- 
mense swindle  upon  her.  Not  a  Mr.  Cecil  Wil- 
braham, but  her  own  son  had  bought  her  cottage 
over  her  liead  and  jockeyed  her  out  of  it  bej^ond 
any  chance  of  getting  into  it  again.  And  to 
defeat  his  mother  the  rascal  had  not  simply  per- 
verted the  innocent  Nellie  Cotterill  to  some  co- 
operation in  his  scheme,  but  he  had  actually 
bought  four  other  cottages  because  the  landlord 
would  not  sell  one  alone,  and  he  was  actually 
demolishing  property  to  the  sole  end  of  stopping 
her  from  re-entering  it! 

Of  course,  the  entire  town  soon  knew  of  the 
upshot  of  the  battle,  of  the  year-long  battle,  be- 
tween Denry  and  his  mother,  and  the  means 
adopted  by  Denry  to  win.  The  town  also  had 
been  hoodwinked,  but  it  did  not  mind  that.  It 
loved  its  Denry  the  more,  and,  seeing  that  he 
was  now  properly  established  in  the  most  re- 
markable house  in  the  district,  it  soon  after- 
wards made  him  a  town  councillor  as  some 
reward  for  his  talent  in  amusing  it. 

And  Denry  would  say  to  himself: 

"  Everything  went  like  clockwork,  except  the 
mustard  and  water.  I  did  n't  bargain  for  the 
mustard  and  water.     And  yet,  if  I  was  clever 


Raising  a  Wigwam  239 

enough  to  think  of  putting  a  label  on  the  bottle 
and  to  have  the  beds  prepared,  I  ought  to  have 
been  clever  enough  to  keep  mustard  out  of  the 
house."  It  would  be  wrong  to  mince  the  un- 
pleasant fact  that  the  sham  poisoning  which  he 
had  arranged  to  the  end  that  he  and  his  mother 
should  pass  the  night  in  the  house  had  finished 
in  a  manner  much  too  realistic  for  Denry's 
pleasure.  Mustard  and  water,  particularly  when 
mixed  by  Mrs.  Machin,  is  mustard  and  water. 
She  had  that  consolation. 


CHAPTER  IX.     THE  GREAT  NEWSPAPER 
WAR 


When  Denry  and  his  mother  had  been  estab- 
lished a  year  and  a  month  in  the  new  house 
at  Bleakridge,  Denry  received  a  visit  one  even- 
ing which  perhaps  flattered  him  more  than  any- 
thing had  ever  flattered  him.  The  visitor  was 
Mr.  Myson.  Now  Mr.  Myson  was  the  founder, 
proprietor,  and  editor  of  the  Five  Towns  Weekly, 
a  new  organ  of  public  opinion  which  had  been 
in  existence  about  a  year;  and  Denry  thought 
that  Mr.  Myson  had  popped  in  to  see  him  in 
pursuit  of  an  advertisement  of  the  Thrift  Club, 
and  at  first  he  was  not  at  all  flattered. 

But  Mr.  Myson  was  not  hunting  for  advertise- 
ments, and  Denry  soon  saw  him  to  be  the  kind 
of  man  who  would  be  likely  to  depute  that  work 
to  others.  Of  middle  height,  well  and  quietly 
dressed,  with  a  sober,  assured  deportment,  he 
spoke  in  a  voice  and  accent  that  were  not  of 
the  Five  Towns;  they  were  superior  to  the 
Five  Towns.  And  in  fact  Mr.  Myson  origi- 
nated in  Manchester  and  had  seen  London.     He 

240 


The  Great  Newspaper  War       241 

was  not  provincial,  and  he  beheld  the  Five 
Towns  as  part  of  the  provinces,  which  no  na- 
tive of  the  Five  Towns  ever  succeeds  in  doing. 
Nevertheless,  his  manner  to  Denry  was  the 
summit  of  easy  and  yet  deferential  politeness. 

He  asked  permission  "  to  put  something  be- 
fore "  Denry.  And  when,  rather  taken  aback  by 
such  smooth  phrases,  Denry  had  graciously  ac- 
corded the  permission,  he  gave  a  brief  history 
of  the  Five  Towns  Weeldy,  showing  how  its  cir- 
culation had  grown,  and  definitely  stating  that 
at  that  moment  it  was  yielding  a  profit.  Then 
he  said: 

"  Now  my  scheme  is  to  turn  it  into  a  daily." 

"  Very  good  notion !  "  said  Denry  instinctively. 

"  I  'm  glad  you  think  so,"  said  Mr.  Myson. 
"  Because  I  've  come  here  in  the  hope  of  getting 
your  assistance.  I  'm  a  stranger  to  the  district, 
and  I  want  the  co-operation  of  some  one  who 
is  n't.  So  I  've  come  to  you.  I  need  money, 
of  course,  though  I  have  myself  what  most  peo- 
ple would  consider  sufficient  capital.  But  what  I 
need  more  than  money  is — well — moral  support." 

"  And  who  put  you  on  to  me?  "  asked  Denry. 

Mr.  Myson  smiled.  "  I  put  myself  on  to  you," 
said  he.  "  I  think  I  may  say  I  've  got  my  bear- 
ings in  the  Five  Towns,  after  over  a  year's 
Journalism  in  it,  and  it  appeared  to  me  that 
you  were  the  best  man  I  could  approach.  I 
always  believe  in  flying  high." 


242  Denry  the  Audacious 

Therein  was  Denry  flattered.  The  visit  seemed 
to  him  to  seal  his  position  in  the  district  in 
a  way  in  which  his  election  to  the  Bursley  Town 
Council  had  failed  to  do.  He  had  been  some- 
how disappointed  with  that  election.  He  had 
desired  to  display  his  interest  in  the  serious 
welfare  of  the  town,  and  to  answer  his  oppo- 
nent's arguments  with  better  ones.  But  the 
burgesses  of  his  ward  appeared  to  have  no  pas- 
sionate love  of  logic.  They  just  cried  "  Good 
old  Denry!"  and  elected  him — with  a  majority 
of  only  forty-one  votes.  He  had  expected  to  feel 
a  different  Denry  when  he  could  put  "  Coun- 
cillor "  before  his  name.  It  was  not  so.  He 
had  been  solemnly  in  the  mayoral  procession  to 
church,  he  had  attended  meetings  of  the  council, 
he  had  been  nominated  to  the  Watch  Committee. 
But  he  was  still  precisely  the  same  Denry,  though 
the  youngest  member  of  the  council.  But  now 
he  was  being  recognised  from  the  outside. 
Mr.  Myson's  keen  Manchester  eye,  ranging 
over  the  quarter  of  a  million  inhabitants  of  the 
Five  Towns  in  search  of  a  representative  indi- 
vidual Iforce,  had  settled  on  Denry  Machin.  Yes, 
he  was  flattered.  Mr.  Myson's  choice  threw  a 
rose  light  on  all  Denry's  career;  his  wealth  and 
its  origin ;  his  house  and  stable,  which  were  the 
astonishment  and  the  admiration  of  the  town; 
his  Universal  Thrift  Club;  yea,  and  his 
councillorship.     After  all,  these  were  marvels. 


The  Great  Newspaper  War       245 

(And  possibly  the  greatest  marvel  was  the  re- 
signed presence  of  his  mother  in  that  wondrous 
house,  and  the  fact  that  she  consented  to  employ 
Rose  Chudd,  the  incomparable  Sappho  of  char- 
women, for  three  hours  every  day.) 

In  ftne,  he  perceived  from  Mr.  Myson's  eyes 
that  his  position  was  unique. 

And  after  they  had  chatted  a  little,  and  th6 
conversation  had  deviated  momentarily  from 
journalism  to  house  property,  he  offered  to  dis- 
play Machin  House  (as  he  had  christened  it)  to 
Mr.  Myson,  and  Mr.  Myson  was  really  impressed 
beyond  the  ordinary.  Mr.  Myson's  homage  to 
Mrs.  Machin,  whom  they  chanced  on  in  the  para- 
dise of  the  bathroom,  was  the  polished  mirror 
of  courtesy.  How  Denry  wished  that  he  could 
behave  like  that  when  he  happened  to  meet 
countesses ! 

Then,  once  more  in  the  drawing-room,  they 
resumed  the  subject  of  newspapers. 

"  You  know,"  said  Mr.  Myson.  "  It 's  really 
a  very  bad  thing  indeed  for  a  district  to  have 
only  one  daily  newspaper.  I  've  nothing  myself 
to  say  against  The  Staffordshire  Signal,  but 
you  'd  perhaps  be  astonished  " — this  in  a  con- 
fidential tone — "  at  the  feeling  there  is  against 
the  Signal  in  many  quarters." 

"  Really !  "  said  Denry. 

"  Of  course  its  fault  is  that  it  is  n't  sufficiently 
interested  in  the  great  public  questions  of  the 


244  Denry  the  Audacious 

district.  And  it  can't  be.  Because  it  can't  take 
a  definite  side.  It  must  try  to  please  all  parties. 
At  any  rate  it  must  offend  none.  That  is  the 
great  evil  of  a  journalistic  monopoly.  .  .  .  Two 
hundred  and  fifty  thousand  people — why!  there 
is  an  ample  public  for  two  first-class  papers! 
Look  at  Nottingham!  Look  at  Bristol!  Look 
at  Leeds!  Look  at  Sheffield!  .  .  .  And  their 
newspapers." 

And  Denry  endeavoured  to  look  at  these  great 
cities!  Truly  the  Five  Towns  was  just  about 
as  big. 

The  dizzy  journalistic  intoxication  seized  him. 
He  did  not  give  Mr.  Myson  an  answer  at  once, 
but  he  gave  himself  an  answer  at  once.  He 
would  go  into  the  immense  adventure.  He  was 
very  friendly  with  the  Signal  people — certainly ; 
but  business  was  business,  and  the  highest  wel- 
fare of  the  Five  Towns  was  the  highest  welfare 
of  the  Five  Towns. 

Soon  afterwards  all  the  hoardings  of  the  dis- 
trict spoke  with  one  blue  voice,  and  said  that 
the  Five  Towns  Weekly  was  to  be  transformed 
into  the  Five  Towns  Daily,  with  four  editions 
beginning  each  day  at  noon,  and  that  the  new 
organ  would  be  conducted  on  the  lines  of  a 
first-class  evening  paper. 

The  inner  ring  of  knowing  ones  knew  that  a 
company  entitled  "  The  Five  Towns  Newspapers, 
Limited,"  had  been  formed,  with  a  capital  of 


The  Great  Newspaper  War       245 

ten  thousand  pounds,  and  that  Mr.  Myson  held 
three  thousand  pounds'  worth  of  shares,  and  the 
great  Denry  Machin  one  thousand  five  hundred, 
and  that  the  remainder  were  to  be  sold  and 
allotted  as  occasion  demanded.  The  inner  ring 
said  that  nothing  would  ever  be  able  to  stand 
up  against  the  Signal.  On  the  other  hand,  it 
admitted  that  Denry,  the  most  prodigious  card 
ever  born  into  the  Five  Towns,  had  never  been 
floored  by  anything  or  anybody.  The  inner  ring 
anticipated  the  future  with  glee.  Denry  and  Mr. 
Myson  anticipated  the  future  with  righteous  con- 
fidence. As  for  the  Signal,  it  went  on  its  august 
way,  calmly  blind  to  sensational  hoardings. 


II 


On  the  day  of  the  appearance  of  the  first  issue 
of  the  Fire  Toicns  Daily,  the  offices  of  the  new 
paper  at  Hanbridge  gave  proof  of  their  excellent 
organisation,  working  in  all  details  with  an  ad- 
mirable smoothness.  In  the  basement  a  Mari- 
noni  machine  thundered  like  a  sucking  dove  to 
produce  fifteen  thousand  copies  an  hour.  On 
the  gTOund  floor  ingenious  arrangements  had 
been  made  for  publishing  the  paper;  in  par- 
ticular, the  iron  railings  to  keep  the  boys  in 
order  in  front  of  the  publishing  counter  had 
been  imitated  from  the  Signal.  On  the  first 
floor  was  the  editor  and  founder,  with  his  staff. 


246  Denry  the  Audacious 

and  above  that  the  composing  department.  The 
number  of  stairs  tliat  separated  the  composing 
department  from  the  machine  room  was  not  a 
positive  advantage,  but  bricks  and  mortar  are 
inelastic,  and  one  does  what  one  can.  The  offices 
looked  very  well  from  the  outside,  and  they  com- 
pared passably  with  the  offices  of  the  Signal 
close  by.  The  posters  were  duly  in  the  ground- 
floor  windows,  and  gold  signs,  one  above  another 
to  the  roof,  produced  an  air  of  lucrative  success. 
Denry  happened  to  be  in  the  Daily  offices  that 
afternoon.  He  had  had  nothing  to  do  with  the 
details  of  organisation,  for  details  of  organisa- 
tion were  not  his  speciality.  His  speciality  was 
large,  leading  ideas.  He  knew  almost  nothing 
of  the  agreements  with  correspondents  and  Press 
Association  and  Central  News  and  the  racing 
services  and  the  fiction  syndicates,  nor  of  the 
difficulties  with  the  Compositors'  Union,  nor  of 
the  struggle  to  lower  the  price  of  paper  by  the 
twentieth  of  a  penny  per  pound,  nor  of  the  aw- 
ful discounts  allowed  to  certain  advertisers,  nor 
of  the  friction  with  the  railway  company,  nor 
of  tlie  sickening  adulation  that  had  been  lavished 
on  quite  unimportant  news  agents,  nor — worst  of 
all — of  the  dearth  of  newsboys.  These  matters 
did  not  attract  him.  He  could  not  stoop  to 
them.  But  when  Mr.  Myson,  calm  and  proud, 
escorted  him  down  to  the  machine  room,  and 
the  Marinoni  threw  a  folded  pink  Daily  almost 


The  Great  Newspaper  War       247 

into  his  Iiands,  and  it  looked  exactly  like  a  real 
newspaper,  and  he  saw  one  of  his  own  descrip- 
tive articles  in  it,  and  he  reflected  that  he  was 
an  owner  of  it — then  Denry  was  attracted  and 
delighted,  and  his  heart  beat.  For  this  pink 
thing  was  the  symbol  and  result  of  the  whole 
affair,  and  had  the  effect  of  a  miracle  on  him. 

And  he  said  to  himself,  never  guessing  how 
many  thousands  of  men  had  said  it  before  him, 
that  a  newspaper  was  the  finest  toy  in  the  world. 

About  four  o'clock  the  publisher,  in  shirt 
sleeves  and  an  apron,  came  up  to  Mr.  Myson 
and  respectfully  asked  him  to  step  into  the  pub- 
lishing office.  Mr.  Myson  stepped  into  the  pub- 
lishing office,  and  Denry  with  him,  and  they 
there  beheld  a  small,  ragged  boy  with  a  bleeding 
nose  and  a  bundle  of  Dailys  in  his  wounded 
hand. 

"  Yes,"  the  boy  sobbed ;  "  and  they  said  they  'd 
cut  my  eyes  out  and  plee  [play]  marbles  wi' 
'em,  if  they  cotched  me  in  Crown  Square  agen." 
And  he  threw  down  the  papers  with  a  final  yell. 

The  two  directors  learnt  that  the  delicate 
threat  had  been  uttered  by  four  Signal  boys  who 
had  objected  to  any  fellow-boys  offering  any 
paper  otlier  than  the  Signal  for  sale  in  Crown 
Square  or  anywliere  else. 

Of  course,  it  was  absurd. 

Still,  absurd  as  it  was,  it  continued.  The 
central  publishing  offices  of  the  Daily  at  Han- 


248  Denry  the  Audacious 

bridge,  and  its  branch  offices  in  the  neighbouring 
towns,  were  like  military  hospitals,  and  the 
truth  appeared  to  the  directors  that  while  the 
public  was  panting  to  buy  copies  of  the  Daily, 
the  sale  of  the  Daily  was  being  prevented  by 
means  of  a  scandalous  conspiracy  on  the  part 
of  Signal  boys.  For  it  must  be  understood  that 
in  the  Five  Towns  people  prefer  to  catch  their 
newspaper  in  the  street  as  it  flies  and  cries.  The 
Signal  bad  a  vast  army  of  boys,  to  whom  every 
year  it  gave  a  great  fete.  Indeed,  the  Signal 
possessed  nearly  all  the  available  boys,  and  as- 
suredly all  the  most  pugilistic  and  strongest 
boys.  Mr.  Myson  had  obtained  boys  only  after 
persistent  inquiry  and  demand,  and  such  as  he 
had  found  were  not  the  fittest,  and  therefore 
were  unlikely  to  survive.  You  would  have  sup- 
posed that  in  a  district  that  never  ceases  to 
grumble  about  bad  trade  and  unemployment, 
thousands  of  boys  would  have  been  delighted  to 
buy  the  Daily  at  fourpence  a  dozen  and  sell  it 
at  sixpence.     But  it  was  not  so. 

On  the  second  day  the  dearth  of  boys  at  the 
offices  of  the  Daily  was  painful.  There  was  that 
magnificent,  enterprising  newspaper  waiting  to 
be  sold,  and  there  was  the  great  enlightened 
public  waiting  to  buy;  and  scarcely  any  business 
could  be  done  because  the  Signal  boys  had  es- 
tablished a  reign  of  terror  over  their  puny  and 
upstart  rivals ! 


The  Great  Newspaper  War       249 

The  situation  was  unthinl^able. 

Still,  unthinkable  as  it  was,  it  continued.  Mr. 
Myson  had  thought  of  everything  except  this. 
Naturally  it  had  not  occurred  to  him  that  an 
immense  and  serious  effort  for  the  general  weal 
was  going  to  be  blocked  by  a  gang  of  tatter- 
demalions. 

He  complained,  with  dignity,  to  the  Signal, 
and  was  informed,  with  dignity,  by  the  Signal 
that  the  Signal  could  not  be  responsible  for  the 
playful  antics  of  its  boys  in  the  streets;  that,  in 
short,  the  Five  Towns  was  a  free  country.  In 
the  latter  proposition  Mr.  Myson  did  not  concur. 

After  trouble  in  the  persuasion  of  parents — 
astonishing  how  indifferent  the  Five  Towns' 
parent  was  to  the  loss  of  blood  by  his  offspring! 
— a  case  reached  the  police-court.  At  the  hear- 
ing the  Signal  gave  a  solicitor  a  watching  brief, 
and  that  solicitor  expressed  the  Signal's  horror 
of  carnage.  The  evidence  was  excessively  con- 
tradictory, and  the  Stipendiary  dismissed  the 
summons  with  a  good  joke.  The  sole  definite 
result  was  that  the  boy  whose  father  had  osten- 
sibly brought  the  summons  got  his  ear  torn 
within  a  quarter  of  an  hour  of  leaving  the  court. 
Boys  will  be  boys. 

Still,  the  Daily  had  so  little  faith  in  human 
nature  that  it  could  not  believe  that  the  Signal 
was  not  secretly  encouraging  its  boys  to  be  boys. 
It  could  not  believe  that  the  Signal,  out  of  a 


250  Denry  the  Audacious 

sincere  desire  for  fair  play  and  for  the  highest 
welfare  of  the  district,  would  willingly  sacrifice 
nearly  half  its  circulation  and  a  portion  of  its 
advertisement  revenue.  And  the  hurt  tone  of 
Mr.  Myson's  leading  articles  seemed  to  indicate 
that  in  Mr.  Myson's  opinion  his  older  rival 
ought  to  do  everything  in  its  power  to  ruin 
itself.  The  Signal  never  spoke  of  the  fight. 
The  Daily  gave  shocking  details  of  it  every 
day. 

The  struggle  trailed  on  through  the  weeks. 

Then  Denry  had  one  of  his  ideas.  An  adver- 
tisement was  printed  in  the  Daily  for  two  hund- 
red able-bodied  men  to  earn  two  shillings  for 
working  six  hours  a  day.  An  address  different 
from  the  address  of  the  Daily  was  given.  By  a 
ruse  Denry  procured  the  insertion  of  the  adver- 
tisement in  the  Signal  also. 

"  We  must  expend  our  capital  on  getting  the 
paper  on  to  the  streets,"  said  Denry.  "  That 's 
evident.  We  '11  have  it  sold  by  men.  We  '11 
soon  see  if  the  Signal  ragamuffins  will  attack 
them.  And  we  won't  pay  'em  by  results;  we'll 
pay  'em  a  fixed  wage ;  that  '11  fetch  'em.  And 
a  commission,  on  sales  into  the  bargain.  Why ! 
I  would  n't  mind  engaging  five  hundred  men. 
Swamp  the  streets  I  That 's  it !  Hang  expense. 
And  when  we  've  done  the  trick,  then  we  can 
go  back  to  the  boys;  they'll  have  learnt  their 
lesson." 


The  Great  Newspaper  War       251 

And  Mr.  Myson  agreed,  and  was  pleased  that 
Denry  was  living  up  to  his  reputation. 

The  state  of  the  earthenware  trade  was  sup- 
posed that  summer  to  be  worse  than  it  had  been 
since  1869,  and  the  grumblings  of  the  unem- 
ployed were  prodigious,  even  seditious.  Mr. 
Myson,  therefore,  as  a  measure  of  precaution 
engaged  a  couple  of  policemen  to  ensure  order 
at  the  address,  and  during  the  hours,  named  in 
the  advertisement  as  a  rendezvous  for  respect- 
able men  in  search  of  a  well-paid  job.  Having 
regard  to  the  thousands  of  perishing  families 
in  the  Five  Towns,  he  foresaw  a  rush  and 
a  crush  of  eager  breadwinners.  Indeed,  the 
arrangements  were  elaborate. 

Forty  minutes  after  the  advertised  time  for 
the  opening  of  the  reception  of  respectable  men 
in  search  of  money  four  men  had  arrived.  Mr. 
Myson,  mystified,  thought  that  there  had  been 
a  mistake  in  the  advertisement.  But  there  was 
no  mistake  in  the  advertisement.  A  little  later 
two  more  men  came.  Of  the  six,  three  were 
tipsy,  and  the  other  three  absolutely  declined 
to  be  seen  selling  papers  in  the  streets.  Two 
were  abusive,  one  facetious.  Mr.  Myson  did  not 
know  his  Five  Towns;  nor  did  Denry.  A  man 
in  the  Five  Towns,  when  he  can  get  neither 
bread  nor  beer,  will  keep  himself  and  his  family 
on  pride  and  water. 

The  policemen  went  off  to  more  serious  duties. 


252  Denry  the  Audacious 

III 

Then  came  the  announcement  of  the  thirty- 
fifth  anniversary  of  the  Signal^  and  of  the  pro- 
cessional fete  by  which  the  Signal  was  at  once 
to  give  itself  a  splendid  spectacular  advertise- 
ment and  to  reward  and  enhearten  its  boys. 
The  Signal  meant  to  liven  up  the  streets  of  the 
Five  TowTis  on  that  great  day  by  means  of  a 
display  of  all  the  gilt  chariots  of  Snape's  Circus 
in  the  main  thoroughfares.  Many  of  the  boys 
would  be  in  the  gilt  chariots.  Copies  of  the 
anniversary  number  of  the  Signal  would  be  sold 
from  the  gilt  chariots.  The  idea  was  excellent, 
and  it  showed  that  after  all  the  Signal  was  get- 
ting just  a  little  more  afraid  of  its  young  rival 
than  it  had  pretended  to  be. 

For,  strange  to  say,  after  a  trying  period  of 
hesitation,  the  Five  Towns  Daily  was  slightly 
on  the  upward  curve — thanks  to  Denry.  Denry 
did  not  mean  to  be  beaten  by  the  puzzle  which 
the  Daily  offered  to  his  intelligence.  There  the 
Daily  was,  full  of  news,  and  with  quite  an  en- 
couraging show  of  advertisements,  printed  on  real 
paper  with  real  ink — and  yet  it  would  not  "  go." 
Notoriously  the  Signal  earned  a  net  profit  of  at 
the  very  least  five  thousand  a  year,  whereas  the 
Daily  earned  a  net  loss  of  at  the  very  least  sixty 
pounds  a  week — and  of  that  sixty  quite  a  third 
was  Denry's  money.     He  could  not  explain  it. 


The  Great  Newspaper  War       253 

Mr.  Myson  tried  to  rouse  the  public  by  passion- 
ately stirring  up  extremely  urgent  matters — 
such  as  the  smoke-nuisance,  the  increase  of  the 
rates,  the  park  question,  German  competition, 
technical  education  for  apprentices;  but  the 
public  obstinately  would  not  be  roused  concern- 
ing its  highest  welfare  to  the  point  of  insisting 
on  a  regular  supply  of  the  Daily.  If  a  mere 
five  thousajQd  souls  had  positively  demanded 
daily  a  copy  of  the  Daily  and  not  slept  till 
boys  or  agents  had  responded  to  their  wish, 
the  troubles  of  the  Daily  would  soon  have  van- 
ished. But  this  ridiculous  public  did  not  seem 
to  care  which  paper  was  put  into  its  hand  in 
exchange  for  its  halfpenny  so  long  as  the  sport- 
ing news  was  put  there.  It  simply  was  indif- 
ferent. It  failed  to  see  the  importance  to  such 
an  immense  district  of  having  two  flourishing 
and  mutually  opposing  daily  organs.  The  fun- 
damental boy  difficulty  remained  ever-present. 

And  it  was  the  boy  difficulty  that  Denry  per- 
severingly  and  ingeniously  attacked,  until  at 
length  the  Daily  did  indeed  possess  some  sort 
of  a  brigade  of  its  own,  and  the  bullying  and 
slaughter  in  the  streets  (so  amusing  to  the  in- 
habitants) grew  a  little  less  one-sided. 

A  week  or  more  before  the  Signal's  anniver- 
sary day  Denry  heard  that  the  Signal  was 
secretly  afraid  lest  the  Daily's  brigade  might 
accomplish  the  marring  of  its  gorgeous  proces- 


254  Denry  the  Audacious 

sion,  and  that  the  Signal  was  ready  to  do  any' 
thing  to  smash  the  Daily's  brigade.  He  laughed ; 
he  said  he  did  not  mind.  About  that  time 
hostilities  were  rather  acute;  blood  was  warm- 
ing, and  both  papers,  in  the  excitation  of  rivalry, 
had  partially  lost  the  sense  of  what  was  due 
to  the  dignity  of  great  organs.  By  chance  a 
tremendous  local  football  match — Knype  v. 
Bursley — fell  on  the  very  Saturday  of  the  pro- 
cession. The  rival  arrangements  for  the  report- 
ing of  the  match  were  as  tremendous  as  the 
match  itself,  and  somehow  the  match  seemed 
to  add  keenness  to  the  journalistic  struggle,  es- 
pecially as  the  Daily  favoured  Bursley  and  the 
Signal  was  therefore  forced  to  favour  Knype. 

By  all  the  laws  of  hazard  there  ought  to  have 
been  a  hitch  on  that  historic  Saturday.  Tele- 
phone or  telegraph  ought  to  have  broken  down, 
or  rain  ought  to  have  made  play  impossible. 
But  no  hitch  occurred.  And  at  five-thirty  o'clock 
of  a  glorious  afternoon  in  earliest  November 
the  Daily  went  to  press  with  a  truly  brilliant 
account  of  the  manner  in  which  Bursley  (for 
the  first  and  last  time  in  its  history)  had  de- 
feated Knype  by  one  goal  to  none.  Mr.  Myson 
was  proud.  Mr.  Myson  defied  the  Signal  to  beat 
his  descriptive  report.  As  for  the  SignaVs  pro- 
cession— well,  Mr.  Myson  and  the  chief  sub- 
editor of  the  Daily  glanced  at  each  other  and 
smiled. 


The  Great  Newspaper  War       255 

And  a  few  minutes  later  the  Daily  boys  were 
rushing  out  of  the  publishing-room  with  bundles 
of  papers — assuredly  in  advance  of  the  Signal. 

It  was  at  this  juncture  that  the  unexpected 
began  to  occur  to  the  Daily  boys.  The  publish- 
ing door  of  the  Daily  opened  into  Stanway  Rents, 
a  narrow  alley  in  a  maze  of  mean  streets  be- 
hind Crown  Square.  In  Stanway  Rents  was  a 
small  warehouse  in  which,  according  to  rumours 
of  the  afternoon,  a  free  soup  kitchen  was  to  be 
opened.  And  just  before  the  football  edition  of 
the  Daily  came  off  the  Marinoni,  it  emphatically 
was  opened,  and  there  issued  from  its  inviting 
gate  an  odour — not,  to  be  sure,  of  soup,  but  of 
toasted  cheese  and  hot  jam — such  an  odour  as 
had  never  before  tempted  the  nostrils  of  a  Daily 
boy;  a  unique  and  omnipotent  odour.  Several 
boys  (who,  I  may  state  frankly,  were  traitors 
to  the  Daily  cause,  spies  and  mischief-makers 
from  elsewhere)  raced  unhesitatingly  in,  crying 
that  toasted  cheese  sandwiches  and  jam  tarts 
were  to  be  distributed  like  lightning  to  all 
authentic  newspaper  lads. 

The  entire  gang  followed — scores,  over  a  hund- 
red— inwardly  expecting  to  emerge  instantly 
with  teeth  fully  employed,  followed  like  sheep 
unto  a  fold. 

And  the  gate  was  shut. 

Toasted  cheese  and  hot  jammy  pastry  were 
faitlifully  served  to  the  ragged  host — but  with 


256  Denry  the  Audacious 

no  breathless  baste.  And  when,  loaded,  tbe  boys 
struggled  to  depart,  they  were  instructed  by  the 
kind  philanthropist  who  had  fed  them  to  depart 
by  another  exit  and  they  discovered  themselves 
in  an  enclosed  yard  of  which  the  double  doors 
were  apparently  unyielding.  And  the  warehouse 
door  was  shut  also.  And,  as  the  cheese  and  jam 
disappeared,  shouts  of  fury  arose  on  the  air. 
The  yard  was  so  close  to  the  offices  of  the  Daily 
that  the  chimney-pots  of  those  offices  could  ac- 
tually be  seen.  And  yet  the  shouting  brought 
no  answer  from  the  lords  of  the  Daily,  con- 
gratulating themselves  up  there  on  their  fine 
account  of  the  football  match,  and  on  their 
celerity  in  going  to  press,  and  on  the  loyalty 
of  their  brigade. 

The  Signal,  it  need  not  be  said,  disavowed 
complicity  in  this  extraordinary  entrapping  of 
the  Daily  brigade  by  means  of  an  odour.  Could 
it  be  held  responsible  for  the  excesses  of  its  dis- 
interested sympathisers?  .  .  .  Still,  the  appall- 
ing trick  showed  the  high  temperature  to  which 
blood  had  risen  in  the  genial  battle  between 
great  rival  organs.  Persons  in  the  very  inmost 
ring  whispered  that  Denry  Machin  had  at  length 
been  bested  on  this  critically  important  day. 

IV 

Snape's  Circus  used  to  be  one  of  the  great 


The  Great  Newspaper  War       257 

shining  institutions  of  North  Staffordshire,  trail- 
ing its  magnificence  on  sculptured  wheels  from 
town  to  town,  and  occupying  the  dreams  of  boys 
from  one  generation  to  another.  Its  head- 
quarters were  at  Axe,  in  the  Moorlands,  ten 
miles  away  from  Hanbridge,  but  the  riches  of 
old  Snape  had  chiefly  come  from  the  Five  Towns. 
At  the  time  of  the  struggle  between  the  Signal 
and  the  Daily  its  decline  had  already  begun. 
The  aged  proprietor  had  recently  died,  and  the 
name,  and  the  horses,  and  the  chariots,  and  the 
carefully  repaired  tents  had  been  sold  to 
strangers.  On  the  Saturday  of  the  anniversary 
and  the  football  match  (which  was  also  Martin- 
mas Saturday)  the  circus  was  set  up  at  Old- 
castle,  on  the  edge  of  the  Five  Towns,  and  was 
giving  its  final  performances  of  the  season. 
Even  boys  will  not  go  to  circuses  in  the  middle 
of  a  Five  Towns'  winter.  The  Signal  people 
had  hired  the  processional  portion  of  Snape's 
for  the  late  afternoon  and  early  evening.  And 
the  instructions  were  that  the  entire  cortege 
should  be  round  about  the  Signal  offices,  in 
marching  order,  not  later  than  five  o'clock. 

But  at  four  o'clock  several  gentlemen  with 
rosettes  in  their  button-holes  and  Signal  posters 
in  their  hands  arrived  important  and  panting 
at  the  fair-ground  at  Oldcastle  and  announced 
that  the  programme  had  been  altered  at  the 
last  moment  in  order  to  defeat  certain  feared 


258  Denry  the  Audacious 

machinations  of  the  unscrupulous  Daily.  The 
cavalcade  was  to  be  split  into  three  groups,  one 
of  which,  the  chief,  was  to  enter  Hanbridge  by 
a  "  back  road  "  and  the  other  two  were  to  go 
to  Bursley  and  Longshaw  respectively.  In  this 
manner  the  forces  of  advertisement  would  be 
distributed  and  the  chief  parts  of  the  district 
equally  honoured. 

The  special  linen  banners,  pennons,  and  rib- 
bons— bearing  the  words  "  Signal :  Thirty-fifth 
Anniversary,"  etc. — had  already  been  hung,  and 
planted,  and  draped  about  the  gilded  summits 
of  the  chariots.  And  after  some  delay  the  pro- 
cessions were  started  separating  at  the  bottom 
of  the  Cattle-market.  The  head  of  the  Han- 
bridge part  of  the  procession  consisted  of  an 
enormous  car  of  Jupiter,  with  six  wheels  and 
thirty-six  paregorical  figures  (as  the  clown  used 
to  say),  and  drawn  by  six  pie-bald  steeds  guided 
by  white  reins.  This  coach  had  a  windowed  in- 
terior (at  the  greater  fairs  it  sometimes  served 
as  a  box-office),  and  in  the  interior  one  of  the 
delegates  of  the  Signal  had  fixed  himself;  from 
it  he  directed  the  paths  of  the  procession. 

It  would  be  futile  longer  to  conceal  that  the 
delegate  of  the  Signal  in  the  bowels  of  the  car 
of  Jupiter  was  not  honestly  a  delegate  of  the 
Signal  at  all.  He  was,  indeed,  Denry  Machin, 
and  none  other.  From  this  single  fact  it  will 
be  seen  to  what  extent  the  representatives  of 


The  Great  Newspaper  War       259 

great  organs  had  forgotten  what  was  due  to 
their  dignity  and  to  public  decency.  Ensconced 
in  his  lair,  Denry  directed  the  main  portion  of 
the  SignaVs  advertising  procession  by  all  man- 
ner of  discreet  lanes  round  the  skirts  of  Han- 
bridge  and  so  into  the  town  from  the  hilly  side. 
And  ultimately  the  ten  vehicles  halted  in  Crapper 
Street,  to  the  joy  of  the  simple  inhabitants. 

Denry  emerged  and  wandered  innocently  to- 
wards the  offices  of  his  paper,  which  were  close 
by.  It  was  getting  late.  The  first  yelling  of 
the  imprisoned  Daily  boys  was  just  beginning 
to  rise  on  the  autumn  air. 

Suddenly  Denry  was  accosted  by  a  young  man. 

"  Hello,  Machin ! "  cried  the  young  man. 
"  What  have  you  shaved  your  beard  off  for? 
I  scarcely  knew  you." 

"  I  just  thought  I  would,  Swetnam,"  said 
Denry,  who  was  obviously  discomposed. 

It  was  the  youngest  of  the  Swetnam  boys; 
he  and  Denry  had  taken  a  sort  of  curt  fancy 
to  one  another. 

"  I  say,"  said  Swetnam  confidentially,  as  if 
obeying  a  swift  impulse,  "  I  did  hear  that  the 
Signal  people  meant  to  collar  all  your  chaps 
this  afternoon,  and  I  believe  they  have  done. 
Hear  that  now?"  (Swetnam's  father  was  ex- 
ceedingly intimate  with  the  Signal  people.) 

"  I  know,"  Denry  replied. 

"  But  I  mean — papers  and  all." 


26o  Denry  the  Audacious 

"  I  know,"  said  Denry. 

"  Oh !  "  murmured  Swetnam. 

"  But  I  '11  tell  you  a  secret,"  Denry  added. 
"  They  are  n't  to-day's  papers.  They  're  yester- 
day's, and  last  week's,  and  last  month's.  We  've 
been  collecting  them  specially  and  keeping  them 
nice  and  new-looking." 

"Well,  you're  a  caution !"  murmured  Swetnam. 

"  I  am,"  Denry  agreed. 

A  number  of  men  rushed  at  that  instant  with 
bundles  of  the  genuine  football  edition  from  the 
offices  of  the  Daily. 

"  Come  on !  "  Denry  cried  to  them.  "  Come 
on!     This  way!     By-by,  Swetnam." 

And  the  whole  file  vanished  round  a  corner. 
The  yelling  of  imprisoned  cheese-fed  boys  grew 
louder. 


In  the  meantime  at  the  Signal  office  (which 
was  not  three  hundred  yards  away,  but  on  the 
other  side  of  Crown  Square)  apprehension  had 
deepened  into  anxiety  as  the  minutes  passed 
and  the  Snape  Circus  procession  persisted  in  not 
appearing  on  the  horizon  of  the  Oldcastle  Road. 
The  Signal  would  have  telephoned  to  Snape's 
but  for  the  fact  that  a  circus  is  never  on  the 
telephone.  It  then  telephoned  to  its  Oldcastle 
agent,  who,  after  a  long  delay,  was  able  to  reply 
that  the  cavalcade  had  left  Oldcastle  at  the  ap- 


The  Great  Newspaper  War       261 

pointed  hour  with  every  sign  of  health  and 
energy.  Then  the  Signal  sent  forth  scouts  all 
down  the  Oldcastle  Road  to  put  spurs  into  the 
procession,  and  the  scouts  returned  having  seen 
nothing.  Pessimists  glanced  at  the  possibility 
of  the  whole  procession  having  fallen  into  the 
canal  at  Cauldon  Bridge.  The  paper  was 
printed,  the  train  parcels  for  Knype,  Longshaw, 
Bursley,  and  Turnhill  were  despatched ;  the  boys 
were  waiting;  the  fingers  of  the  clock  in  the 
publishing  department  were  simply  flying.  It 
had  been  arranged  that  the  bulk  of  the  Han- 
bridge  edition,  and  in  particular  the  first  copies 
of  it,  should  be  sold  by  boys  from  the  gilt  chariots 
themselves.  The  publisher  hesitated  for  an  aw- 
ful moment,  and  then  decided  that  he  could  wait 
no  more  and  that  the  boys  must  sell  the  papers 
in  the  usual  way  from  the  pavements  and  gutters. 
There  was  no  knowing  what  the  Daily  might  not 
be  doing. 

And  then  Signal  boys  in  dozens  rushed  forth 
paper-laden,  but  they  were  disappointed  boys; 
they  had  thought  to  ride  in  gilt  chariots,  not 
to  paddle  in  mud.  And  almost  the  first  thing 
they  saw  in  Crown  Square  was  the  car  of  Jupiter 
in  its  glory,  flying  all  the  Signal  colours;  and 
other  cars  behind.  They  did  not  rush  now;  they 
sprang,  as  from  a  catapult;  and  alighted  like 
flies  on  the  vehicles.  Men  insisted  on  taking 
their  papers  from  them  and  paying  for  them  on 


262  Denry  the  Audacious 

the  spot.  The  boys  were  startled;  they  were 
entirely  puzzled;  but  tbey  had  not  the  habit  of 
refusing  money.  And  off  went  the  procession  to 
the  music  of  its  own  band  down  the  road  to 
Knype,  and  perhaps  a  hundred  boys  on  board, 
cheering.  The  men  in  charge  then  performed 
a  curious  act;  they  tore  down  all  the  Signal 
flagging,  and  replaced  it  with  the  emblem  of 
the  Daily. 

So  that  all  the  great  and  enlightened  public, 
wandering  home  in  crowds  from  the  football 
match  at  Knype,  had  the  spectacle  of  a  Daily 
procession  instead  of  a  Signal  procession,  and 
could  scarce  believe  their  eyes.  And  Dailys 
were  sold  in  quantities  from  the  cars.  At  Knype 
Station  the  procession  curved  and  returned  to 
Hanbridge,  and  finally,  after  a  multitudinous 
triumph,  came  to  a  stand  with  all  its  Daily 
bunting  in  front  of  the  Signal  offices ;  and  Denry 
appeared  from  his  lair.  Denry 's  men  fled  with 
bundles. 

"  They  're  an  hour  and  a  half  late,"  said  Denry 
calmly  to  one  of  the  proprietors  of  the  Signal, 
who  was  on  the  pavement.  "  But  I  've  managed 
to  get  them  here.  I  thought  I  'd  just  look  in 
to  thank  you  for  giving  such  a  good  feed  to 
our  lads." 

The  telephones  hummed  with  news  of  similar 
Daily  processions  in  Longshaw  and  Bursley. 
And  there  was  not  a  high-class  private  bar  in 


The  Great  Newspaper  War       263 

the  district  that  did  not  tinkle  with  delighted 
astonishment  at  the  brazen,  the  inconceivable 
effrontery  of  that  card,  Denry  Machin.  Many 
people  foresaw  lawsuits,  but  it  was  agreed  that 
the  Signal  had  begun  the  game  of  impudence,  in 
trapping  the  Daily  lads  so  as  to  secure  a  holy 
calm  for  its  much-trumpeted  procession. 

And  Denry  had  not  finished  with  the  Signal. 

In  the  special  football  edition  of  the  Daily 
was  an  announcement,  the  first,  of  special  Mar- 
tinmas fetes  organised  by  the  Five  Towns  Daily. 
And  on  the  same  morning  every  member  of  the 
Universal  Thrift  Club  had  received  an  invitation 
to  the  said  fetes.  They  were  three — held  on 
public  ground  at  Hanbridge,  Bursley,  and  Long- 
shaw.  They  were  in  the  style  of  the  usual  Five 
Towns  "wakes";  that  is  to  say,  roundabouts, 
shows,  gingerbread  stalls,  swings,  cocoa-nut 
shies.  But  at  each  fete  a  new  and  very  simple 
form  of  "  shy  "  had  been  erected.  It  consisted 
of  a  row  of  small  railway  signals. 

"  March  up !  March  up !  "  cried  the  shy-men. 
"  Knock  down  the  signal !  Knock  down  the 
signal!  And  a  packet  of  Turkish  delight  is 
yours.     Knock  down  the  signal !  " 

And  when  you  had  knocked  do^Ti  the  signal 
the  men  cried : 

"  We  wrap  it  up  for  you  in  the  special  Anni- 
versary Number  of  the  Signal.'' 

And  they  disdainfully  tore  into  suitable  frag- 


264  Denry  the  Audacious 

ments  copies  of  the  Signal  which  had  cost  Denry 
and  Co.  a  halfpenny  each,  and  enfolded  the 
Turkish  delight  therein  and  handed  it  to  you 
with  a  smack. 

And  all  the  fair-grounds  were  carpeted  with 
draggled  and  muddy  Signals.  People  were  up 
to  the  ankles  in  Signals. 

The  affair  was  the  talk  of  Sunday.  Few  mat- 
ters in  the  Five  Towns  had  raised  more  gossip 
than  did  that  enormous  escapade  which  Denry 
invented  and  conducted.  The  moral  damage  to 
the  Signal  was  held  to  approach  the  disastrous. 
And  now  not  the  possibility  but  the  probability 
of  lawsuits  was  incessantly  discussed. 

On  the  Monday  both  papers  were  bought  with 
anxiety.  Everybody  was  frothing  to  know  what 
the  respective  editors  would  say. 

But  in  neither  sheet  was  there  a  single  word 
as  to  the  affair.  Both  had  determined  to  be 
discreet;  both  were  afraid.  The  Signal  feared 
lest  it  might  not,  if  the  pinch  came,  be  able  to 
prove  its  innocence  of  the  crime  of  luring  boys 
into  confinement  by  means  of  toasted  cheese  and 
hot  jam.  The  Signal  had  also  to  consider  its 
seriously  damaged  dignity;  for  such  wounds 
silence  is  the  best  dressing.  The  Daily  was  com- 
prehensively afraid.  It  had  practically  driven 
its  gilded  chariots  through  the  entire  Decalogue. 
Moreover,  it  had  won  easily  in  the  grand  alter- 
cation.    It  was  exquisitely  conscious  of  glory. 


The  Great  Newspaper  War       265 

Denry  went  away  to  Blackpool,  doubtless  to 
grow  his  beard. 

The  proof  of  the  Daily's  moral  and  material 
victory  was  that  soon  afterwards  there  were  four 
applicants,  men  of  substance,  for  shares  in  the 
Daily  company.  And  this,  by  the  way,  was  the 
end  of  the  tale.  For  these  applicants,  who  se- 
cured options  on  a  majority  of  the  shares,  were 
emissaries  of  the  Signal.  Armed  with  the  op- 
tions, the  Signal  made  terms  with  its  rival,  and 
then  by  mutual  agreement  killed  it.  The  price 
of  its  death  was  no  trifle,  but  it  was  less  than 
a  year's  profits  of  the  Signal.  Denry  consid- 
ered that  he  had  been  "  done."  But  in  the 
depths  of  his  heart  he  was  glad  that  he  had 
been  done.  He  had  had  too  disconcerting  a 
glimpse  of  the  rigours  and  perils  of  journalism 
to  wish  to  continue  iii  it.  He  had  scored  su- 
premely, and,  for  him,  to  score  was  life  itself. 
His  reputation  as  a  card  was  far,  far  higher 
than  ever.  Had  he  so  desired,  he  could  have 
been  elected  to  the  House  of  Commons  on  the 
strength  of  his  procession  and  fete. 

Mr.  Myson,  somewhat  scandalised  by  the  ex- 
uberance of  his  partner,  returned  to  Manchester. 

And  the  Signal,  subsequently  often  referred 
to  as  "  The  Old  Lady,"  resumed  its  monopolistic 
sway  over  the  opinions  of  a  quarter  of  a  million 
of  people,  and  has  never  since  been  attacked. 


CHAPTER  X.     HIS  INFAMY 

I 

When  Denry  at  a  single  stroke  "  wherreted  " 
his  mother  and  proved  his  adventurous  spirit  by 
becoming  the  possessor  of  one  of  the  first  motor- 
cars ever  owned  in  Bursley,  his  instinct  natu- 
rally was  to  run  up  to  Councillor  Cotterill's  in 
it.  Not  that  he  loved  Councillor  Cotterill,  and 
therefore  wished  to  make  him  a  partaker  in  his 
joy,  for  he  did  not  love  Councillor  Cotterill. 
He  had  never  been  able  to  forgive  Nellie's  father 
for  those  patronising  airs  years  and  years  before 
at  Llandudno,  airs  indeed  which  had  not  even 
yet  disappeared  from  Cotterill's  attitude  towards 
Denry.  Though  tliey  were  councillors  on  the 
same  town  council,  though  Denry  was  getting 
richer  and  Cotterill  was  assuredly  not  getting 
richer,  the  latter's  face  and  tone  always  seemed 
to  be  saying  to  Denry :  "  Well,  you  are  not 
doing  so  badly  for  a  beginner."  So  Denry  did 
not  care  to  lose  an  opportunity  of  impressing 
Councillor  Cotterill.  Moreover,  Denry  had 
other  reasons  for  going  up  to  the  Cotterills. 
There  existed  a  sympathetic  bond  between  him 

266 


His  Infamy  267 

and  Mrs.  Cotterill,  despite  lier  prim  taciturnity 
and  her  exasperating  habit  of  sitting  with  her 
hands  pressed  tight  against  her  body  and  one 
over  the  otlier.  Occasionally  he  teased  her — 
and  she  liked  being  teased.  He  had  glimpses 
now  and  then  of  her  secret  soul;  he  was  per- 
haps the  only  person  in  Bursley  thus  privileged. 
Then  there  was  Nellie.  Denry  and  Nellie  were 
great  friends.  For  the  rest  of  the  world  she  had 
grown  up,  but  not  for  Denry,  who  treated  her 
as  the  chocolate  child,  while  she,  if  she  called 
him  anything,  called  him  respectfully  "  Mr." 

The  Cotterills  had  a  fairly  large  old  house 
with  a  good  garden  "  up  Bycars  Lane,"  above 
the  new  park  and  above  all  those  red  streets 
which  Mr.  Cotterill  had  helped  to  bring  into 
being.  Mr.  Cotterill  built  new  houses  with 
terra-cotta  facings  for  others,  but  preferred  an 
old  one  in  stucco  for  himself.  His  abode  had 
been  saved  from  the  parcelling  out  of  several 
Georgian  estates.  It  was  dignified.  It  had  a 
double  entrance  gate,  and  from  this  portal  the 
drive  started  off  for  the  house  door,  but  de- 
liberately avoided  reaching  the  house  door  until 
it  had  wandered  in  curves  over  the  entire  garden. 
That  was  the  Georgian  touch!  The  modern 
touch  was  shown  in  Councillor  Cotterill's  bay 
windows,  bathroom,  and  garden  squirter.  There 
was  stabling,  in  which  were  kept  a  Victorian 
dog-cart  and  a  Georgian  horse,  used  by  the  coun- 


268  Denry  the  Audacious 

cillor  in  his  business.  As  sure  as  ever  his  wife 
or  daughter  wanted  the  dog-cart,  it  was  eitlier 
out,  or  just  going  out,  or  the  Georgian  horse 
was  fatigued  and  needed  repose.  The  man  who 
groomed  the  Georgian  also  ploughed  the  flower- 
beds, broke  the  windows  in  cleaning  them,  and 
put  blacking  on  brown  boots.  Two  indoor  serv- 
ants had  differing  views  as  to  the  frontier  be- 
tween the  kingdom  of  his  duties  and  the  kingdom 
of  theirs.  In  fact,  it  was  the  usual  spacious 
household  of  successful  trade  in  a  provincial 
town. 

Denry  got  to  Bycars  Lane  without  a  break- 
down. This  was  in  the  days,  quite  thirteen  years 
ago,  when  automobilists  made  their  wills  and 
took  food  supplies  when  setting  forth.  Hence 
Denry  was  pleased.  The  small  but  useful  fund 
of  prudence  in  him,  however,  forbade  him  to 
run  the  car  along  the  unending  sinuous  drive. 
The  May  night  was  fine,  and  he  left  the  loved 
vehicle  with  his  new  furs  in  the  shadow  of  a 
monkey-tree  near  the  gate. 

As  he  was  crunching  towards  the  door,  he 
had  a  beautiful  idea :  "  I  '11  take  'em  all 
out  for  a  spin.  There  '11  just  be  room ! "  he 
said. 

Now  even  to-day,  when  the  very  cabman  drives 
his  automobile,  a  man  who  buys  a  motor  cannot 
say  to  a  friend :  "  I  've  bouglit  a  motor.  Come 
for  a  spin,"  in  the  same  self-unconscious  accents 


His  Infamy  269 

as  he  would  say :  "  I  've  bought  a  boat.  Come 
for  a  sail,"  or  "  I  've  bought  a  house.  Come  and 
look  at  it."  Even  to-day  in  the  centre  of  London 
there  is  still  something  about  a  motor, — well, 
something.  .  .  .  Everybody  who  has  bought  a 
motor,  and  everybody  who  has  dreamed  of  buy- 
ing a  motor,  will  comprehend  me.  Useless  to 
feign  that  a  motor  is  the  most  banal  thing  im- 
aginable. It  is  not.  It  remains  the  supreme 
symbol  of  swagger.  If  such  is  the  effect  of  a 
motor  in  these  days  and  in  Berkeley  Square, 
what  must  it  have  been  in  that  dim  past,  and 
in  that  dim  town  three  hours  by  the  fastest  ex- 
press from  Euston?  The  imagination  must  be 
forced  to  the  task  of  answering  this  question. 
Then  will  it  be  understood  that  Denry  was 
simply  tingling  with  pride. 

"Master  in?"  he  demanded  of  the  servant, 
who  was  correctly  starched,  but  unkempt  in 
detail. 

"  No,  sir.     He  ain't  been  in  for  tea." 

("I  shall  take  the  women  out  then,"  said 
Denry  to  himself.) 

"  Come  in !  Come  in ! "  cried  a  voice  from 
the  other  side  of  the  open  door  of  the  drawing- 
room.  Nellie's  voice!  The  manners  and  state 
of  a  family  that  has  industrially  risen  combine 
the  spectacular  grandeur  of  the  caste  to  which 
it  has  climbed  with  the  ease  and  freedom  of 
the  caste  which  it  has  quitted. 


270  Denry  the  Audacious 

"  Such  a  surprise ! "  said  the  voice.  Nellie 
appeared,  rosy. 

Denry  threw  his  new  motoring  cap  hastily  on 
to  the  hall-stand.  No!  He  did  not  hope  that 
Nellie  would  see  it.  He  hoped  that  she  would 
not  see  it.  Now  that  the  moment  was  really 
come  to  declare  himself  the  owner  of  a  motor- 
car he  grew  timid  and  nervous.  He  would  have 
liked  to  hide  his  hat.  But  then  Denry  was 
quite  different  from  our  common  humanity.  He 
was  capable  even  of  feeling  awkward  in  a  new 
suit  of  clothes.     A  singular  person. 

"  Hello !  "  she  greeted  him. 

"  Hello !  "  he  greeted  her. 

Then  hands  touched. 

"  Father  has  n't  come  yet,"  she  added.  He 
fancied  she  was  not  quite  at  ease. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  what 's  this  surprise?  " 

She  motioned  him  into  the  drawing-room. 

The  surprise  was  a  wonderful  woman,  bril- 
liant in  black — not  black  silk,  but  a  softer,  deli- 
cate stuff.  She  reclined  in  an  easy-chair  with 
surpassing  grace  and  self-possession.  A  black 
Egyptian  shawl,  spangled  with  silver,  was  slip- 
ping off  her  shoulders.  Her  hair  was  dressed 
— that  is  to  say,  it  was  dressed;  it  was  obviously 
and  thrillingly  a  work  of  elaborate  art.  He 
could  see  her  two  feet,  and  one  of  her  ankles. 
The  boots,  the  open-work  stocking — such  boots, 
such  an  open-work  stocking,  had  never  been  seen 


His  Infamy  271 

in  Bursley,  not  even  at  a  ball!  She  was  in 
mourning,  and  wore  scarcely  any  jewelry,  but 
there  was  a  gleaming  tint  of  gold  here  and  there 
among  the  black  which  resulted  in  a  marvellous 
effect  of  richness.  The  least  experienced  would 
have  said,  and  said  rightly:  "This  must  be  a 
woman  of  wealth  and  fashion."  It  was  the  de- 
tail that  finished  the  demonstration.  The  detail 
was  incredible.  There  might  have  been  ten  mil- 
lion stitches  in  the  dress.  Ten  sempstresses 
might  have  worked  on  the  dress  for  ten  years. 
An  examination  of  it  under  a  microscope  could 
but  have  deepened  one's  amazement  at  it. 

She  was  something  new  in  the  Five  Towns, 
something  quite  new. 

Denry  was  not  equal  to  the  situation.  He 
seldom  was  equal  to  a  small  situation.  And 
although  he  had  latterly  acquired  a  considerable 
amount  of  social  savoir,  he  was  constantly  mis- 
laying it,  so  that  he  could  not  put  his  hand  on 
it  at  the  moment  when  he  most  required  it, 
as  now. 

"  Well,  Denry !  "  said  the  wondrous  creature 
in  black,  softly. 

And  he  collected  himself  as  though  for  a 
plunge  and  said: 

"  Well,  Ruth  !  " 

This  was  the  woman  whom  he  had  once  loved, 
kissed,  and  engaged  himself  to  marry.  Ho  was 
relieved    that    she   had    begun    with    Christian 


272  Denry  the  Audacious 

names,  because  he  could  not  recall  her  surname. 
He  could  not  even  remember  whether  he  had 
ever  heard  it.  All  he  knew  was  that,  after  leav- 
ing Bursley  to  join  her  father  in  Birmingham, 
she  had  married  somebody  with  a  double 
name,  somebody  well  off,  somebody  older  than 
herself;  somebody  apparently  of  high  social 
standing;  and  that  this  somebody  had  died. 

She  made  no  fuss.  There  was  no  implication 
in  her  demeanour  that  she  expected  to  be  wept 
over  as  a  lone  widow,  or  that  because  she  and 
he  had  on  a  time  been  betrothed  therefore  they 
could  never  speak  naturally  to  each  other  again. 
She  just  talked  as  if  nothing  had  ever  happened 
to  her,  and  as  if  about  twenty-four  hours  had 
elapsed  since  she  had  last  seen  him.  He  felt 
that  she  must  have  picked  up  this  most  useful 
diplomatic  calmness  in  her  contacts  with  her 
late  husband's  class.  It  was  a  valuable  lesson 
to  him :  "  Always  behave  as  if  nothing  had 
happened — no  matter  what  has  happened." 
To  himself  he  was  saying: 
"  I  'm  glad  I  came  up  in  my  motor." 
He  seemed  to  need  something  in  self-defence 
against  the  sudden  attack  of  all  this  wealth  and 
all  this  superior  social  tact,  and  the  motor-car 
served  excellently. 

"  I  've  been  hearing  a  great  deal  about  you 
lately,"  said  she  with  a  soft  smile,  unobtrusively 
rearranging  a  fold  of  her  skirt. 


His  Infamy  273 

"  Well,"  he  replied,  "  I  'm  sorry  I  can't  say  the 
same  of  you." 

Slightly  perilous,  perhaps,  but  still  he  thought 
it  rather  neat. 

"  Oh !  "  she  said.  "  You  see  I  've  been  so  much 
out  of  England.  We  were  just  talking  about 
holidays.  I  was  saying  to  Mrs.  Cotterill  they 
certainly  ought  to  go  to  Switzerland  this  year 
for  a  change." 

"Yes,  Mrs.  Capron-Smith  was  just  saying 
"  Mrs.  Cotterill  put  in. 

(So  that  was  her  name.) 

"  It  would  be  something  too  lovely ! "  said 
Nellie  in  ecstasy. 

Switzerland!  Astonishing  how  with  a  single 
word  she  had  marked  the  gulf  between  Bursley 
people  and  herself.  The  Cotterills  had  never 
been  out  of  England.  Not  merely  that,  but  the 
Cotterills  had  never  dreamt  of  going  out  of  Eng- 
land. Denry  had  once  been  to  Dieppe,  and  had 
come  back  as  though  from  Timbuctoo  with  a 
traveller's  renown.  And  she  talked  of  Switzer- 
land easily. 

"  I  suppose  it  is  very  jolly,"  he  said. 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  "  it 's  splendid  in  summer. 

But,  of  course,  the  time  is  winter,  for  the  sports. 

Naturally  when  you  aren't  free  to  take  a  bit 

of  a  holiday  in  winter  you  must  be  content  with 

summer,  and  very  splendid  it  is.    I  'm  sure  you  'd 

enjoy  it  frightfully,  Nell." 
18 


274  Denry  the  Audacious 

"  I  'm  sure  I  should — frightfully !  "  Nellie 
agreed.  "  I  shall  speak  to  father.  I  shall  make 
him " 

"  Now,  Nellie — "  her  mother  warned  her. 

"  Yes  I  shall  mother,"  Nellie  insisted. 

"  There  is  your  father ! "  observed  Mrs.  Cot- 
terlll,  after  listening. 

Footsteps  crossed  the  hall,  and  died  away  into 
the  dining-room. 

"  I  wonder  why  on  earth  father  does  n't 
come  in  here.  He  must  have  heard  us  talk- 
ing," said  Nellie,  like  a  tyrant  crossed  in  some 
trifle. 

A  bell  rang,  and  the  servant  came  into  the 
drawing-room  and  remarked :  "  If  you  please, 
mum,"  at  Mrs.  Cotterill,  and  Mrs.  Cotterill 
disappeared,  closing  the  door  after  her. 

"  What  are  they  up  to,  between  them?  "  Nellie 
demanded,  and  she  too  departed,  with  wrinkled 
brow,  leaving  Denry  and  Ruth  together.  It 
could  be  perceived  on  Nellie's  brow  that  her 
father  was  going  "  to  catch  it." 

"  I  have  n't  seen  Mr.  Cotterill  yet,"  said  Mrs. 
Capron-Smith. 

"  When  did  you  come?  "  Denry  asked. 

"  Only  this  afternoon." 

She  continued  to  talk. 

As  he  looked  at  her,  listening  and  responding 
intelligently  now  and  then,  he  saw  that  Mrs. 
Capron-Smith    was   in    truth    the   woman    that 


His  Infamy  275 

Ruth  had  so  cleverly  imitated  ten  years  before. 
The  imitation  had  deceived  him  then;  he  had 
accepted  it  for  genuine.  It  would  not  have 
deceived  him  now — he  knew  that.  Oh,  yes! 
This  was  the  real  article  that  could  hold  its 
own  anywhere.  Switzerland!  And  not  simply 
Switzerland,  but  a  refinement  on  Switzerland! 
Switzerland  in  winter!  He  divined  that  in  her 
secret  opinion  Switzerland  in  summer  was  not 
worth  doing — in  the  way  of  correctness.  But 
in  winter 


II 


Nellie  had  announced  a  surprise  for  Denry  as 
he  entered  the  house,  but  Nellie's  surprise  for 
Denry,  startling  and  successful  though  it  proved, 
was  as  naught  to  the  surprise  which  Mr.  Cot- 
terill  had  in  hand  for  Nellie,  her  mother,  Denry, 
the  town  of  Bursley,  and  various  persons  up  and 
down  the  country. 

Mrs.  Cotterill  came  hysterically  in  upon  the 
duologue  between  Denry  and  Ruth  in  the  draw- 
ing-room. From  the  activity  of  her  hands, 
which,  instead  of  being  decently  folded  one  over 
the  other,  were  waving  round  her  head  in  the 
strangest  way,  it  was  clear  that  Mrs.  Cotterill 
was  indeed  under  the  stress  of  a  very  unusual 
emotion. 

"  It 's   those   creditors — at   last !     I   knew   it 


276  Denry  the  Audacious 

would  be !  It  ■  s  all  those  creditors !  They  won't 
let  him  alone,  and  now  they  've  done  it." 

So  Mrs.  Cotterill!  She  dropped  into  a  chair. 
She  had  no  longer  any  sense  of  shame,  of  what 
was  due  to  her  dignity.  She  seemed  to  have 
forgotten  that  certain  matters  are  not  proper  to 
be  discussed  in  drawing-rooms.  She  had  left 
the  room  Mrs.  Councillor  Cotterill ;  she  returned 
to  it  nobody  in  particular,  the  personification 
of  defeat.  The  change  had  operated  in  five 
minutes. 

Mrs.  Capron-Smith  and  Denry  glanced  at  each 
other,  and  even  Mrs.  Capron-Smith  was  at  a 
loss  for  a  moment.  Then  Ruth  approached 
Mrs.  Cotterill  and  took  her  hand.  Perhaps  Mrs. 
Capron-Smith  was  not  so  astonished  after  all. 
She  and  Nellie's  mother  had  always  been  "  very 
friendly."  And  in  the  Five  Towns  "  very 
friendly  "  means  a  lot. 

"  Perhaps  if  you  were  to  leave  us,"  Ruth  sug- 
gested, twisting  her  head  to  glance  at  Denry. 

It  was  exactly  what  he  desired  to  do.  There 
could  be  no  doubt  that  Ruth  was  supremely 
a  woman  of  the  world.     Her  tact  was  faultless. 

He  left  them,  saying  to  himself :  "  Well, 
here  's  a  go !  " 

In  the  hall,  through  an  open  door,  he  saw 
Councillor  Cotterill  standing  against  the  dining- 
room  mantelpiece. 

When    Cotterill    caught   sight   of   Denry   he 


His  Infamy  277 

straightened  himself  into  a  certain  uneasy 
perkiness. 

"  Young  man,"  he  said  in  a  counterfeit  of 
his  old  patronising  tone,  "  come  in  here.  You 
may  as  well  hear  about  it.  You  're  a  friend  of 
ours.     Come  in  and  shut  the  door." 

Nellie  was  not  in  view. 

Denry  went  in  and  shut  the  door. 

"  Sit  down,"  said  Cotterill. 

And  it  w^as  just  as  if  he  had  said :  "  Now, 
you  're  a  fairly  bright  sort  of  youth,  and  you 
haven't  done  so  badly  in  life;  and  as  a  reward 
I  mean  to  admit  you  to  the  privilege  of  hearing 
about  our  ill-luck,  which  for  some  mysterious 
reason  reflects  more  credit  on  me  than  your 
good  luck  reflects  on  you,  young  man." 

And  he  stroked  his  straggling  grey  beard. 

"  I  'm  going  to  file  my  petition  to-morrow," 
said  he,  and  gave  a  short  laugh. 

"  Really !  "  said  Denry,  who  could  think  of 
nothing  else  to  say.  His  name  was  not  Capron- 
Smith. 

"  Yes ;  they  won't  leave  me  any  alternative," 
said  Mr.  Cotterill. 

Then  he  gave  a  brief  history  of  his  late  com- 
mercial career  to  the  young  man.  And  he 
seemed  to  figure  it  as  a  sort  of  tug-of-war  be- 
tween his  creditors  and  his  debtors,  he  himself 
being  the  rope.  He  seemed  to  imply  that  he 
had  always  done  his  sincere  best  to  attain  the 


278  Denry  the  Audacious 

greatest  good  of  the  greatest  number,  but  that 
those  wrong-headed  creditors  had  consistently 
thwarted  him.  However,  he  bore  them  no 
grudge.  It  was  the  fortune  of  the  tug-of-war. 
He  pretended,  with  shabby  magnificence  of  spirit, 
that  a  bankruptcy  at  the  age  of  near  sixty,  in 
a  community  where  one  has  cut  a  figure,  is  a 
mere  passing  episode. 

"  Are  you  surprised?  "  he  asked  foolishly,  with 
a  sheepish  smile. 

Denry  took  vengeance  for  all  the  patronage 
that  he  had  received  during  a  decade. 

"  No !  "  he  said.     "  Are  you?  " 

Instead  of  kicking  Denry  out  of  the  house 
for  an  impudent  young  jackanapes,  Mr.  Cotterill 
simply  resumed  his  sheepish  smile. 

Denry  had  been  surprised  for  a  moment,  but 
he  had  quickly  recovered.  Cotterill's  downfall 
was  one  of  those  events  which  any  person  of 
acute  intelligence  can  foretell  after  they  have 
happened.  Cotterill  had  run  the  risks  of  the 
speculative  builder,  and  mortgaged,  built  and 
mortgaged,  sold  at  a  profit,  sold  without  profit, 
sold  at  a  loss,  and  failed  to  sell;  given  bills, 
given  second  mortgages,  given  third  mortgages; 
and  because  he  was  a  builder  and  could  do 
nothing  but  build,  he  had  continued  to  build 
in  defiance  of  Bursley's  lack  of  enthusiasm  for 
his  erections.  If  rich  gold  deposits  had  been 
discovered  in  Bursley  Municipal  Park,  Cotterill 


His  Infamy  279 

would  have  owned  a  mining  camp  and  amassed 
immense  wealth;  but  unfortunately  gold  de- 
posits were  not  discovered  in  the  Park.  No- 
body knew  his  position;  nobody  ever  does  know 
the  position  of  a  speculative  builder.  He  did 
not  know  it  himself.  There  had  been  rumours, 
but  they  had  been  contradicted  in  an  adequate 
way.  His  recent  refusal  of  the  mayoral 
chain,  due  to  lack  of  spare  coin,  had  been 
attributed  to  prudence.  His  domestic  exist- 
ence had  always  been  conducted  on  the 
same  moderately  lavish  scale.  He  had  always 
paid  the  baker,  the  butcher,  the  tailor,  the 
dressmaker. 

And  now  he  was  to  file  his  petition  in  bank- 
ruptcy, and  to-morrow  the  entire  town  would 
have  "  been  seeing  it  coming  "  for  years. 

"What  shall  you  do?"  Denry  inquired  in 
amicable  curiosity. 

"Well,"  said  Cotterill,  "that's  the  point. 
I  've  got  a  brother,  a  builder  in  Toronto,  you 
know.  He  's  doing  very  well;  building  is  build- 
ing over  there!  I  wrote  to  him  a  bit  since,  and 
he  replied  by  the  next  mail — by  the  next  mail — 
that  what  he  wanted  was  just  a  man  like  me 
to  overlook  things.  He 's  getting  an  old  man 
now,  is  John.  So,  you  see,  there  's  an  oj)ening 
waiting  for  me." 

As  if  to  say,  "  The  righteous  are  never 
forsaken." 


28o  Denry  the  Audacious 

"  I  tell  you  all  tliis  as  you  're  a  friend  of  the 
family  like,"  lie  added. 

Then,  after  an  expanse  of  vagueness,  he  began 
hopefully,  cheerfully,  undauntedly: 

"  Even  now  if  I  could  get  hold  of  a  couple 
of  thousand  I  could  pull  through  handsome — 
and  there  's  plenty  of  security  for  it." 

"Bit  late  now,  isn't  it?" 

"  Not  it !  If  only  some  one  who  really  knows 
the  town,  and  has  faith  in  the  property  market, 
would  come  down  with  a  couple  of  thousand — 
well,  he  might  double  it  in  five  years." 

"  Really ! " 

"  Yes,"  said  Cotterill.  "  Look  at  Clare 
Street ! " 

Clare  Street  was  one  of  his  terra-cotta 
masterpieces. 

"  You,  now!  "  said  Cotterill,  insinuating.  "  I 
don't  expect  any  one  can  teach  you  much  about 
the  value  o'  property  in  this  town.  You  know 
as  well  as  I  do.  If  you  happened  to  have  a 
couple  of  thousand  loose — by  gosh !  it 's  a  chance 
in  a  million !  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Denry.  "  I  should  say  that  was 
just  about  what  it  was." 

"  I  put  it  before  you,"  Cotterill  proceeded, 
gathering  way,  and  missing  the  flavour  of 
Denry's  remark.  "  Because  you  're  a  friend  of 
the  family.  You  're  so  often  here.  Why,  it 's 
pretty  near  ten  years  ,  .  ," 


His  Infamy  281 

Denry  sighed :  "  I  expect  I  come  and  see 
you  all  about  once  a  fortnight  fairly  regular. 
That  makes  two  hundred  and  fifty  times  in  ten 
years.     Yes.  .  .  ." 

"  A  couple  of  thouV'  said  Cotterill  reflectively. 

"  Two  hundred  and  fifty  into  two  thousand — 
eight.  Eight  pounds  a  visit.  A  shade  thick, 
Cotterill,  a  shade  thick!  You  might  be  half  a 
dozen  fashionable  physicians  rolled  into  one." 

Never  before  had  he  called  the  Councillor 
"  Cotterill  "  unadorned. 

Mr.  Cotterill  flushed  and  rose. 

Denry  does  not  appear  to  advantage  in  this 
interview.  He  failed  in  magnanimity.  The 
only  excuse  that  can  be  offered  for  him  is  that 
Mr.  Cotterill  had  called  him  "  young  man " 
once  or  twice  too  often  in  the  course  of  ten 
years.     It  is  subtle. 


Ill 


"  No,"  whispered  Ruth,  in  all  her  wraps. 
"  Don't  bring  it  up  to  the  door.  I  '11  walk  down 
with  you  to  the  gate,  and  get  in  there." 

He  nodded. 

They  were  off,  together.  Ruth,  it  had  ap- 
peared, was  actually  staying  at  the  Five  Towns 
Hotel,  at  Knype,  which  at  that  epoch  was  the 
only  hotel  in  the  Five  Towns  seriously  pretend- 
ing to  be  "  first-class  "  in  the  full-page  advertise- 


282  Denry  the  Audacious 

ment  sense.  The  fact  that  Ruth  was  staying  at 
the  Five  Towns  Hotel  impressed  Denry  anew. 
Assuredly  she  did  things  in  the  grand  manner. 
She  had  meant  to  walk  down  by  the  Park  to 
Bursley  Station  and  catch  the  last  loop  line  train 
to  Knype,  and  when  Denry  suddenly  disclosed 
the  existence  of  his  motor-car,  and  proposed  to 
see  her  to  her  hotel  in  it,  she  in  her  turn  had 
been  impressed.  The  astonishment  in  her  tone 
as  she  exclaimed: 

"  Have  you  got  a  motor? "  was  the  least  in 
the  world  naive. 

Thus  they  departed  together  from  the  stricken 
house,  Ruth  saying  brightly  to  Nellie,  who  had 
reappeared  in  a  painful  state  of  demoralisation, 
that  she  should  return  on  the  morrow. 

And  Denry  went  down  the  obscure  drive  with 
a  final  vision  of  the  poor  child  Nellie  as  she 
stood  at  the  door  to  speed  them.  It  was  ex- 
traordinary how  that  child  had  remained  a 
child.  He  knew  that  she  must  be  more  than 
half-way  through  her  twenties,  and  yet  she  per- 
sisted in  being  the  merest  girl!  A  delightful 
little  thing;  but  no  savoir  vivre,  no  equality  to 
a  situation,  no  spectacular  pride.  Just  a  nice, 
bright  girl,  strangely  girlish !  The  Cotterills 
had  managed  that  bad  evening  badly.  They 
had  shown  no  dignity,  no  reserve,  no  dis- 
cretion; and  old  Cotterill  had  been  simply 
fatuous  in  his  suggestion !     As  for  Mrs.  Cotterill, 


His  Infamy  283 

she  was  completely  overcome,  and  it  was  due 
solely  to  Ruth's  calm  managing  influence  that 
Nellie,  nervous  and  whimpering,  had  wound 
herself  up  to  come  and  shut  the  front  door  after 
the  guests. 

It  was  all  very  sad. 

When  he  had  successfully  started  the  car,  and 
they  were  sliding  down  the  Moorthorne  hill  to- 
gether, side  by  side,  their  shoulders  touching, 
Denry  threw  off  the  nightmarish  effect  of  the 
bankrupt  household.  After  all,  there  was  no 
reason  why  he  should  be  depressed.  He  was 
not  a  bankrupt.  He  was  steadily  adding  riches 
to  riches.  He  acquired  wealth  mechanically 
now.  Owing  to  the  habits  of  his  mother  he  never 
came  within  miles  of  living  up  to  his  income. 
And  Ruth — she  too  was  wealthy.  He  felt  that 
she  must  be  wealthy  in  the  strict  significance 
of  the  term.  And  she  completed  wealth  by  ex- 
perience of  the  world.  She  was  his  equal.  She 
understood  things  in  general.  She  had  lived, 
travelled,  suffered,  reflected — in  short,  she  was  a 
completed  article  of  manufacture.  She  was  no 
little,  clinging,  raw  girl.  Further,  she  was  less 
hard  than  of  yore.  Her  voice  and  gestures  had 
a  different  quality.  The  world  had  softened  her. 
And  it  occurred  to  him  suddenly  that  her  sole 
fault — extravagance — had  no  importance  now 
that  she  was  wealthy. 

He  told  her  all  that  Mr.  Cotterill  had  said 


284  Denry  the  Audacious 

about  Canada.  And  she  told  him  all  tliat  Mrs. 
Cotterill  had  said  about  Canada.  And  they 
agreed  that  Mr.  Cotterill  had  got  his  deserts, 
and  that,  in  its  own  interest,  Canada  was 
the  only  thing  for  the  Cotterill  family.  And 
the  sooner  the  better!  People  must  accept  the 
consequences  of  bankruptcy.  Nothing  could  be 
done. 

"  I  think  it 's  a  pity  Nellie  should  have  to 
go,"  said  Denry. 

"  Oh !    Do  you?  "  replied  Ruth. 

"  Yes.  Going  out  to  a  strange  country  like 
that.  She  's  not  what  you  may  call  the  Cana- 
dian kind  of  girl.  If  she  could  only  get  some- 
thing to  do  here.  ...  If  something  could  be 
found  for  her !  " 

"Oh!  I  don't  agree  with  you  at  all!"  said 
Ruth.  "  Do  you  really  think  she  ought  to  leave 
her  parents  just  now?  Her  place  is  with  her 
parents.  And  besides,  between  you  and  me, 
she  '11  have  a  much  better  chance  of  marrying 
there  than  in  this  town — after  all  this — I  can 
tell  you.  Of  course  I  shall  be  very  sorry  to 
lose  her — and  Mrs.  Cotterill,  too.     But  .  .  ." 

"  I  expect  you  're  right,"  Denry  concurred. 

And  they  sped  on  luxuriously  through  the 
lamplit  night  of  the  Five  Towns.  And  Denry 
pointed  out  his  house  as  they  passed  it.  And 
they  both  thought  much  of  the  security  of  their 
positions  in  the  world,   and  of  their  incomes. 


His  Infamy  285 

and  of  the  honeyed  deference  of  their  bankers; 
and  also  of  the  mistake  of  being  a  failure. 
You  could  do  nothing  with  a  failure. 


IV 


On  a  frosty  morning  in  early  winter  you  might 
have  seen  them  together  in  a  different  vehicle 
— a  first-class  compartment  of  the  express  from 
Knype  to  Liverpool.  They  had  the  compart- 
ment to  themselves  and  they  were  installed 
therein  with  every  circumstance  of  luxury.  Both 
were  enwrapped  in  furs,  and  a  fur  rug  united 
their  knees  in  its  shelter.  Magazines  and  news- 
papers were  scatted  about  to  the  value  of  a 
labourer's  hire  for  a  whole  day;  and  when 
Denry's  eye  met  the  guard's  it  said  "  shilling." 
In  short,  nobody  could  possibly  be  more  superb 
than  they  were  on  that  morning  in  that 
compartment. 

The  journey  was  the  result  of  peculiar 
events. 

Mr.  Cotterill  had  made  himself  a  bankrupt, 
and  cast  away  the  robe  of  a  Town  Councillor. 
He  had  submitted  to  the  inquisitiveness  of  the 
Official  Receiver  and  to  the  harsh  prying  of 
those  rampant  baying  beasts,  his  creditors.  He 
had  laid  bare  his  books,  his  correspondence,  his 
lack  of  method,  his  domestic  extravagance,  and 
the  distressing  fact  that  he  had  continued  to 


286  Denry  the  Audacious 

trade  long  after  he  knew  himself  to  be  insolvent. 
He  had  for  several  months,  in  the  interests  of 
the  said  beasts,  carried  on  his  own  business  as 
manager  at  a  nominal  salary.  And  gradually 
everything  that  was  his  had  been  sold.  And 
during  the  final  weeks  the  Cotterill  family  had 
been  obliged  to  quit  their  dismantled  house  and 
exist  in  lodgings.  It  had  been  arranged  that 
they  should  go  to  Canada  by  way  of  Liverpool, 
and  on  the  day  before  the  journey  of  Denry 
and  Ruth  to  Liverpool  they  had  departed  from 
the  borough  of  Bursley  (which  Mr.  Cotterill 
had  so  extensively  faced  with  terra-cotta)  un- 
honoured  and  unsung.  Even  Denry,  though  he 
had  visited  them  in  their  lodgings  to  say  good- 
bye, had  not  seen  them  off  at  the  station.  But 
Ruth  Capron-Smith  had  seen  them  off  at  the 
station.  She  had  interrupted  a  sojourn  at 
Southport  in  order  to  come  to  Bursley  and 
despatch  them  therefrom  with  due  friendliness. 
Certain  matters  had  to  be  attended  to  after  their 
departure,  and  Ruth  had  promised  to  attend  to 
them. 

Now  immediately  after  seeing  them  off  Ruth 
had  met  Denry  in  the  street. 

"  Do  you  know,"  she  said  brusquely,  "  those 
people  are  actually  going  steerage?  I  'd  no  idea 
of  it.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Cotterill  kept  it  from  me, 
and  I  should  not  have  heard  of  it  only  from 
something    Nellie    said.     That 's    why    they  've 


His  Infamy  287 

gone  to-day.  The  boat  doesn't  sail  till  to- 
morrow afternoon." 

"  Steerage !  "  and  Denry  whistled. 

"  Yes,"  said  Ruth.  "  Nothing  but  pride,  of 
course.  Old  Cotterill  wanted  to  have  every 
penny  he  could  scrape  so  as  to  be  able  to  make 
the  least  tiny  bit  of  a  show  when  he  gets  to 
Toronto,  and  so — steerage!  Just  think  of  Mrs. 
Cotterill  and  Nellie  in  the  steerage!  If  I'd 
known  of  it  I  should  have  altered  that,  I  can 
tell  you,  and  pretty  quickly  too ;  and  now  it 's 
too  late." 

"  No,  it  is  n't,"  Denry  contradicted  her  flatly. 

"  But  they  've  gone." 

"  I  could  telegraph  to  Liverpool  for  saloon 
berths — there  's  bound  to  be  plenty  at  this  time 
of  year — and  I  could  run  over  to  Liverpool  to- 
morrow and  catch  'em  on  the  boat  and  make 
'em  change." 

She  asked  him  whether  he  really  thought  he 
could,  and  he  assured  her. 

"  Second-cabin  berths  would  be  better,"  said 
she. 

"  Why?  " 

"  Well,  because  of  dressing  for  dinner  and  so 
on.     They  have  n't  got  the  clothes,  you  know." 

"  Of  course,"  said  Denry. 

"  Listen,"  she  said,  with  an  enchanting  smile. 
"  Let 's  halve  the  cost,  you  and  I.  And  let 's  go 
to  Liverpool  together  and — er — make  the  little 


288  Denry  the  Audacious 

gift  and  arrange  things.  I  'm  leaving  for 
Southport  to-morrow,  and  Liverpool 's  on  my 
way." 

Denry  was  delighted  by  the  suggestion,  and 
telegraphed  to  Liverpool,  with  success. 

Thus  they  found  themselves  on  that  morning 
in  the  Liverpool  express  together.  The  work  of 
benevolence  in  which  they  were  engaged  had 
a  powerful  influence  on  their  mood,  which  grew 
both  intimate  and  tender.  Ruth  made  no  con- 
cealment of  her  regard  for  Denry;  and  as  he 
gazed  across  the  compartment  at  her,  exquisitely 
mature  (she  was  slightly  older  than  himself), 
dressed  to  a  marvel,  perfect  in  every  detail  of 
manner,  knowing  all  that  was  to  be  known  about 
life,  and  secure  in  a  handsome  fortune — as  he 
gazed,  Denry  reflected,  joyously,  victoriously: 

"  I  've  got  the  dibs,  of  course.  But  she  's  got 
'em  too — perhaps  more.  Therefore  she  must  like 
me  for  myself  alone.  This  brilliant  creature  has 
been  everywhere  and  seen  everything,  and  she 
comes  back  to  the  Five  Towns  and  comes  back 
to  me." 

It  was  his  proudest  moment.  And  in  it  he 
saw  his  future  far  more  dazzlingly  glorious  than 
he  had  dreamt — even  as  late  as  six  months 
before. 

"  When  shall  you  be  out  of  mourning?  "  he 
inquired. 

"  In  two  months,"  said  she. 


His  Infamy  289 

This  was  not  a  proposal  and  acceptance,  but 
it  was  very  nearly  one.  They  were  silent,  and 
happy. 

Then  she  said: 

"  Do  you  ever  have  business  at  Southport?  " 

And  he  said,  in  a  unique  manner: 

"  I  shall  have." 

Another  silence.  This  time,  he  felt,  he  would 
marry  her. 


The  White  Star  liner  Tituhic  stuck  out  of  the 
water  like  a  row  of  houses  against  the  landing- 
stage.  There  was  a  large  crowd  on  her  prome- 
nade deck,  and  a  still  larger  crowd  on  the 
landing-stage.  Above  the  promenade  deck  officers 
paced  on  the  navigating  deck,  and  above  that 
was  the  airy  bridge,  and  above  that  the  funnels, 
smoking,  and  somewhere  still  higher  a  flag  or 
two  fluttering  in  the  icy  breeze.  And  behind 
the  crowd  on  the  landing-stage  stretched  a  row 
of  four-wheeled  cabs  and  rickety  horses.  The 
landing-stage  swayed  ever  so  slightly  on  the 
tide.  Only  the  ship  was  apparently  solid, 
apparently  cemented  in  foundations  of  concrete. 

On  the  starboard  side  of  the  promenade  deck, 
among  a  hundred  other  small  groups,  was  a 
group  consisting  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Cotterill  and 
Ruth  and  Denry.     Nellie  stood  a  few  feet  apart. 


290  Denry  the  Audacious 

Mrs.  Cotterill  was  crying.  People  naturally 
thought  she  was  crying  because  of  the  adieux. 
But  she  was  not.  She  wept  because  Denry  and 
Ruth  by  sheer  force  of  will  had  compelled  them 
to  come  out  of  tlie  steerage  and  occupy  beautiful 
and  commodious  berths  in  the  second  cabin, 
where  the  manner  of  the  stewards  was  quite 
different.  She  wept  because  they  had  been 
caught  in  the  steerage.  She  wept  because  she 
was  ashamed,  and  because  people  were  too  kind. 
She  was  at  once  delighted  and  desolated.  She 
wanted  to  outpour  psalms  of  gratitude,  and  also 
she  wanted  to  curse. 

Mr.  Cotterill  said  stiffly  that  he  should  repay 
— and  that  soon. 

An  immense  bell  sounded  impatiently. 

"  We  'd  better  be  shunting,"  said  Denry. 
"  That 's  the  second." 

In  exciting  crises  he  sometimes  employed  such 
peculiar  language  as  this.  And  he  was  very  ex- 
cited. He  had  done  a  great  deal  of  rushing 
about.  The  upraising  of  the  Cotterill  family 
from  the  social  Hades  of  the  steerage  to  the 
respectability  of  the  second  cabin  had  demanded 
all  his  energy  and  a  lot  of  Ruth's. 

Ruth  kissed  Mrs.  Cotterill  and  then  Nellie. 
And  Mrs.  Cotterill  and  Nellie  acquired  rank  and 
importance  for  the  whole  voyage  by  reason  of 
being  kissed  in  public  by  a  woman  so  elegant 
and  aristocratic  as  Ruth  Capron-Smith. 


His  Infamy  291 

And  Denry  shook  hands.  He  looked  brightly 
at  the  parents,  but  he  could  not  look  at  Nellie ; 
nor  could  she  look  at  him;  their  handshaking 
was  perfunctory.  For  months  their  playful 
intimacy  had  been  in  abeyance. 

"Good-bye!" 

"  Good  luck ! " 

"Thanks.     Good-bye!" 

"Good-bye!" 

The  horrible  bell  continued  to  insist. 

"  All    non-passengers    ashore !     All    ashore !  " 

The  numerous  gangways  were  thronged  with 
people  obeying  the  call,  and  handkerchiefs  be- 
gan to  wave.  And  there  was  a  regular  vibrating 
tremor  through  the  ship. 

Mr,  and  Mrs.  Cotterill  turned  away. 

Ruth  and  Denry  approached  the  nearest  gang- 
way, and  Denry  stood  aside  and  made  a  place 
for  her  to  pass.  And,  as  always,  a  number  of 
women  pushed  into  the  gangways  immediately 
after  her  and  Denry  had  to  wait,  being  a  perfect 
gentleman. 

His  eye  caught  Nellie's.     She  had  not  moved. 

He  felt  then  as  he  had  never  felt  in  his  life. 
No,  absolutely  never!  Her  sad,  her  tragic 
glance  rendered  him  so  uncomfortable,  and  yet 
so  deliciously  uncomfortable,  that  the  symptoms 
startled  him.  He  wondered  what  would  happen 
to  his  legs.     He  was  not  sure  that  he  had  legs. 

However,   he   demonstrated   the  existence   of 


292  Denry  the  Audacious 

his  legs  by  running  up  to  Nellie.  Kuth  was  by 
this  time  swallowed  in  the  crowd  on  the  landing- 
stage.  He  looked  at  Nellie.  Nellie  looked  at 
him.     Her  lips  twitched. 

"  What  am  I  doing  here?  "  he  asked  of  his 
soul. 

She  was  not  at  all  well  dressed.  She  was 
indeed  shabby — in  a  steerage  style.  Her  hat 
was  awry;  her  gloves  miserable.  No  girlish 
pride  in  her  distraught  face !  No  determination 
to  overcome  fate!  No  consciousness  of  ability 
to  meet  a  bad  situation.  Just  those  sad  eyes 
and  those  twitching  lips. 

"  Look  here !  "  Denry  whispered.  "  You  must 
come  ashore  for  a  second.  I  've  something  I 
want  to  give  you,  and  I  've  left  it  in  the  cab." 

"  But  there 's  no  time.     The  bell 's  .  .  ." 

"  Bosh !  "  he  exclaimed,  gruffly,  extinguishing 
her  timid  childish  voice.  "  You  won't  go  for 
at  least  a  quarter  of  an  hour.  All  that 's  only 
a  dodge  to  get  people  off  in  plenty  of  time. 
Come  on,  I  tell  you." 

And  in  a  sort  of  hysteria  he  seized  her  thin, 
long  hand,  and  dragged  her  along  the  deck  to 
another  gangway,  down  whose  steep  slope  they 
stumbled  together.  The  crowd  of  sightseers  and 
handkerchief-wavers  jostled  them.  They  could 
see  nothing  but  heads  and  shoulders  and  the 
great  side  of  the  ship  rising  above.  Denry 
turned  her  back  on  the  ship. 


His  Infamy  293 

"  This  way !  "     He  still  held  her  hand. 

He  struggled  to  the  cab-rank. 

"  Which  one  is  it?  "  she  asked. 

"  Any  one.  Never  mind  which.  Jump  in !  " 
And  to  the  first  driver  whose  eye  met  his,  he 
said :    "  Lime-street  Station." 

The  gangways  were  being  drawn  away.  A 
hoarse  boom  filled  the  air,  and  then  a  cheer. 

"  But  I  shall  miss  the  boat,"  the  dazed  girl 
protested. 

"  Jump  in !  " 

He  pushed  her  in. 

"  But  I  shall  miss  the  .  .  ." 

"  I  know  you  will,"  he  replied,  as  if  angrily. 
"  Do  you  suppose  I  was  going  to  let  you  go  by 
that  steamer?     Not  much !  " 

"  But  mother  and  father  .  .  ." 

"  I  '11  telegraph.     They  '11  get  it  on  landing." 

"And  Where's  Ruth?" 

'^ Be  hanged  to  Ruth!"  he  shouted  furiously. 

As  the  cab  rattled  over  the  cobbles,  the 
Titubic  slipped  away  from  the  landing-stage. 
The  irretrievable  had  happened. 

Nellie  burst  into  tears. 

"  Look  here !  "  Denry  said  savagely.  "  If  you 
don't  dry  up,  I  shall  have  to  cry  myself ! " 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  me?  "  she 
whimpered. 

"  Well,  what  do  you  think?  I  'm  going  to 
marry  you,  of  course." 


294  Denry  the  Audacious 

His  aggrieved  tone  might  have  been  supposed 
to  imply  that  people  had  tried  to  thwart  him, 
but  that  he  had  no  intention  of  being  thwarted, 
nor  of  asking  permissions,  nor  of  conducting 
himself  as  anything  hut  a  fierce  tyrant. 

As  for  Nellie,  she  seemed  to  surrender. 

Then  he  kissed  her — also  angrily.  He  kissed 
her  several  times — yes,  even  in  Lord-street  itself 
— less  and  less  angrily. 

"  Where  are  you  taking  me  to?  "  she  inquired 
humbly,  as  a  captive. 

"  I  shall  take  you  to  my  mother's,"  he  said. 

"  Will  she  like  it?  " 

"  She  '11  either  like  it  or  lump  it,"  said  Denry. 
"  It  '11  take  a  fortnight." 

"  What?  " 

"  The  notice,  and  things." 

In  the  train,  in  the  midst  of  a  great  submis- 
sive silence,  she  murmured: 

"  It  '11  be  simply  awful  for  father  and  mother." 

"  That  can't  be  helped,"  said  he.  "  And  they  '11 
be  far  too  seasick  to  bother  their  heads  about 
you." 

"  You  can't  think  how  you  've  staggered  me," 
said  she. 

"  You  can't  think  how  I  've  staggered  myself," 
said  he. 

"  When  did  you  decide  to  .  .  ." 

"  When  I  was  standing  at  the  gangway  and 
you  looked  at  me,"  he  answered. 


His  Infamy  295 

"  But  .  .  ." 

"  It 's  no  use  butting,"  he  said.  "  I  'm  like 
that.  .  .  .     That 's  me,  that  is !  " 

It  was  the  bare  truth  that  he  had  staggered 
himself.  But  he  had  staggered  himself  into  a 
miraculous,  ecstatic  happiness.  She  had  no 
money,  no  clothes,  no  style,  no  experience,  no 
particular  gifts.  But  she  was  she.  And  when 
he  looked  at  her,  calmed,  he  knew  that  he  had 
done  well  for  himself.  He  knew  that  if  he  had 
not  yielded  to  that  terrific  impulse  he  would  have 
done  badly  for  himself. 

Mrs.  Machin  had  what  she  called  a  ticklish 
night  of  it. 


VI 


The  next  day  he  received  a  note  from  Ruth, 
dated  Southport,  inquiring  how  he  came  to  lose 
her  on  the  landing-stage,  and  expressing  con- 
cern. •  It  took  him  three  days  to  reply,  and  even 
then  the  reply  was  a  bad  one.  He  had  behaved 
infamously  to  Ruth:  so  much  could  not  be  de- 
nied. Within  three  hours  of  practically  pro- 
posing to  her  he  had  run  off  with  a  simple  girl 
who  was  not  fit  to  hold  a  candle  to  her.  And 
he  did  not  care.  That  was  the  worst  of  it:  he 
did  not  care. 

Of  course  the  facts  reached  her.  The  facts 
reached  everybody;  for  the  singular  reappear- 


296  Denry  the  Audacious 

ance  of  Nellie  in  the  streets  of  Bursley  im- 
mediately after  her  departure  for  Canada  had 
to  be  explained.  Moreover,  the  infamous  Denry 
was  rather  proud  of  the  facts.  And  the  town  in- 
evitably said :  "  Machin  all  over,  that !  Snatch- 
ing the  girl  off  the  blooming  lugger!  Machin 
all  over !  "  And  Denry  agreed  privately  that  it 
was  Machin  all  over. 

"  What  other  chap,"  he  demanded  of  the  air, 
"  would  have  thought  of  it?  Or  had  the 
pluck.  .  .  ." 

It  was  mere  malice  on  the  part  of  Destiny 
that  caused  Denry  to  run  across  Mrs.  Capron- 
Smith  at  Euston  some  weeks  later.  Happily 
they  both  had  immense  nerve. 

"  Dear  me !  "  said  she.  "  What  are  you  doing 
here?  " 

"  Only  honeymooning,"  he  said. 


CHAPTER  XI.     IN  THE  ALPS 


Although  Denry  was  extremely  happy  as 
a  bridegroom,  and  capable  of  the  most  foolish 
symptoms  of  affection  in  private,  he  said  to 
himself,  and  he  said  to  Nellie  (and  she  sturdily 
agreed  with  him):  "We  aren't  going  to  be 
the  ordinary  silly  honeymooners."  By  which, 
of  course,  he  meant  that  they  would  behave  so 
as  to  be  taken  for  staid  married  persons.  They 
failed  thoroughly  in  this  enterprise  as  far  as 
London,  where  they  spent  a  couple  of  nights, 
but  on  leaving  Charing  Cross  they  made  a  new 
and  a  better  start,  in  the  light  of  experience. 

The  destination — it  need  hardly  be  said — was 
Switzerland.  After  Mrs.  Capron-Smith's  re- 
marks on  the  necessity  of  going  to  Switzerland 
in  winter  if  one  wished  to  respect  one's  self, 
there  was  really  no  alternative  to  Switzerland. 
Thus  it  was  announced  in  the  Signal  (which 
had  reported  the  wedding  in  ten  lines,  owing 
to  the  excessive  quietude  of  the  wedding)  that 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Councillor  Machin  were  spending 
a  month  at  Mont  Pridoux,  sur  Montreux,  on  the 

297 


298  Denry  the  Audacious 

Lake  of  Geneva.  And  the  announcement  looked 
very  well. 

At  Dieppe  they  got  a  through  carriage.  There 
were  several  through  carriages  for  Switzerland 
on  the  train.  In  walking  through  the  corridors 
from  one  to  another  Denry  and  Nellie  had 
their  first  glimpse  of  the  world  which  travels 
and  which  runs  off  for  a  holiday  whenever  it 
feels  in  the  mood.  The  idea  of  going  for  a  holi- 
day in  any  month  but  August  seemed  odd  to 
both  of  them.  Denry  was  very  bold  and  would 
insist  on  talking  in  a  naturally  loud  voice. 
Nellie  was  timid  and  clinging.  "  What  do  you 
say?  "  Denry  would  roar  at  her  when  she  half- 
whispered  something,  and  she  had  to  repeat  it 
so  that  all  could  liear.  It  was  part  of  their 
plan  to  address  each  other  curtly,  brusquely, 
and  to  frown,  and  to  pretend  to  be  slightly  bored 
by  each  other. 

They  were  outclassed  by  the  world  which 
travels.  Try  as  they  might,  even  Denry  was 
morally  intimidated.  He  had  managed  his  clothes 
fairly  correctly;  he  was  not  ashamed  of  them; 
and  Nellie's  were  by  no  means  the  worst  in  the 
compartments;  indeed,  according  to  the  stand- 
ard of  some  of  the  most  intimidating  women, 
Nellie's  costume  erred  in  not  being  quite  sufll- 
ciently  negligent,  sufficiently  "  anyhow."  And 
they  had  plenty,  and  ten  times  plenty  of  money, 
and  the  consciousness  of  it.     Expense  was  not 


In  the  Alps  299 

being  spared  on  that  honeymoon.  And  yet  .  .  . 
Well,  all  that  can  be  said  is  that  the  company 
was  imposing.  The  company,  which  was  entirely 
English,  seemed  to  be  unaware  that  any  one 
ever  did  anything  else  but  travel  luxuriously  to 
places  mentioned  in  second-year  geographies. 
It  astounded  Nellie  that  there  should  be  so  many 
people  in  the  world  with  nothing  to  do  but  spend. 
And  they  were  constantly  saying  the  strangest 
things  with  an  air  of  perfect  calm. 

"  How  much  did  you  pay  for  the  excess  lug- 
gage? "  an  untidy  young  woman  asked  of  an 
old  man. 

"Oh!  Thirteen  pounds,"  answered  the  old 
man  carelessly. 

And  not  long  before  Nellie  had  scarcely 
escaped  ten  days  in  the  steerage  of  an  Atlantic 
liner. 

After  dinner  in  the  restaurant  car — no  cham- 
pagne because  it  was  vulgar,  but  a  good  sound 
expensive  wine — they  felt  more  equal  to  the  situa- 
tion, more  like  part-owners  of  the  train.  Nellie 
prudently  went  to  bed  ere  the  triumphant  feeling 
wore  off.  But  Denry  stayed  up  smoking  in  the 
corridor.  He  stayed  up  very  late,  being  too 
proud  and  happy  and  too  avid  of  new  sensations 
to  be  able  to  think  of  sleep.  It  was  a  match 
which  led  to  a  conversation  between  himself  and 
a  thin,  drawling,  overbearing  fellow  with  an  eye- 
glass.    Denry  had  hated  this  lordly  creature  all 


300  Denry  the  Audacious 

the  way  from  Dieppe.  In  presenting  him  with 
a  match  he  felt  that  he  was  somehow  getting  the 
better  of  him,  for  the  match  was  precious  in 
the  nocturnal  solitude  of  the  vibrating  corridor. 
The  mere  fact  that  two  people  are  alone  to- 
gether and  awake,  divided  from  a  sleeping  or 
sleepy  population  only  by  a  row  of  closed,  mys- 
terious doors,  will  do  much  to  break  down  social 
barriers.  The  excellence  of  Denry's  cigar  also 
helped.     It  atoned  for  the  breadth  of  his  accent. 

He  said  to  himself: 

"  I  '11  have  a  bit  of  a  chat  with  this  johnny." 

And  then  he  said  aloud: 

"  Not  a  bad  train  this !  " 

"  No !  "  the  eyeglass  agreed  languidly.  "  Pity 
they  give  you  such  a  beastly  dinner !  " 

And  Denry  agreed  hastily  that  it  was. 

Soon  they  were  chatting  of  places,  and  some- 
how it  came  out  of  Denry  that  he  was  going  to 
Montreux.  The  eyeglass  professed  its  indiffer- 
ence to  Montreux  in  winter,  but  said  the  resorts 
above  Montreux  were  all  right,  such  as  Caux 
or  Pridoux. 

And  Denry  said: 

"  Well,  of  course,  should  n't  think  of  stopping 
in  Montreux.     Going  to  try  Pridoux." 

The  eyeglass  said  it  wasn't  going  so  far  as 
Switzerland  yet;  it  meant  to  stop  in  the  Jura. 

"Geneva's  a  pretty  deadly  place,  ain't  it?" 
said  the  eyeglass  after  a  pause. 


In  the  Alps  301 

"Ye-es,"  said  Denry. 

"  Been  there  since  that  new  esplanade  was 
finished?" 

"  No,"  said  Denry.     "  I  saw  nothing  of  it." 

"  When  were  you  there?  " 

"  Oh !    A  couple  of  years  ago." 

"  Ah!  It  was  n't  started  then.  Comic  thing! 
Of  course  they  're  awfully  proud  in  Geneva  of 
the  view  of  Mont  Blanc." 

"  Yes,"  said  Denry. 

"  Ever  noticed  how  queer  women  are  about 
that  view?  They  're  no  end  keen  on  it  at  first, 
but  after  a  day  or  two  it  gets  on  their  nerves." 

"  Yes,"  said  Denry.  "  I  've  noticed  that  my- 
self.    My  wife  .  .  ." 

He  stopped  because  he  didn't  know  what  he 
was  going  to  say. 

The  eyeglass  nodded  understandingly.  "  All 
alike,"  it  said.     "  Odd  thing!  " 

When  Denry  introduced  himself  into  the  two- 
berth  compartment  which  he  had  managed  to 
secure  at  the  end  of  the  carriage  for  himself 
and  Nellie,  the  poor  tired  child  was  as  wakeful 
as  an  owl. 

"  Who  have  you  been  talking  to?  "  she  yawned. 

"  The  eyeglass  johnny." 

"  Oh !  Really !  "  Nellie  murmured,  interested 
and  impressed.  "  With  him,  have  you?  I  could 
hear  voices.     What  sort  of  a  man  is  he?  " 

"  He  seems  to  be  an  ass,"  said  Denry.     "  Fear- 


302  Denry  the  Audacious 

fully  haw-haw.  Could  n't  stand  him  for  long. 
I  've  made  him  believe  we  've  been  married  for 
two  years." 


II 


They  stood  on  the  balcony  of  the  Hotel  Beau- 
Site  of  Mont  Pridoux.  A  little  below,  to  the 
right,  was  the  other  hotel,  the  Metropole,  with 
the  red-and-white  Swiss  flag  waving  over  its 
central  tower.  A  little  below  that  was  the  ter- 
minal station  of  the  funicular  railway  from 
Montreux.  The  railway  ran  down  the  sheer  of 
the  mountain  into  the  roofs  of  Montreux,  like 
a  wire.  On  it,  two  toy  trains  crawled  towards 
each  other,  like  flies  climbing  and  descending  a 
wall.  Beyond  the  fringe  of  hotels  that  con- 
stituted Montreux  was  a  strip  of  water,  and 
beyond  the  water  a  range  of  hills  white  at  the 
top. 

"  So  these  are  the  Alps ! "  Nellie  exclaimed. 

She  was  disappointed;  he  also.  But  when 
Denry  learnt  from  the  guide-book  and  by  en- 
quiry that  the  strip  of  lake  was  seven  miles 
across,  and  the  highest  notched  peaks  ten  thou- 
sand feet  above  the  sea  and  twenty-five  miles 
off,  Nellie  gasped  and  was  content. 

They  liked  the  Hotel  Beau-Site.  It  had  been 
recommended  to  Denry,  by  a  man  who  knew 
what  was  what,  as  the  best  hotel  in  Switzer- 


In  the  Alps  303 

land.  "  Don't  you  be  misled  by  prices,"  the 
man  had  said.  And  Denry  was  not.  He  paid 
sixteen  francs  a  day  for  the  two  of  them  at 
the  Beau-Site,  and  was  rather  relieved  than 
otherwise  by  the  absence  of  finger-bowls.  Every- 
thing was  very  good,  except  sometimes  the  hot 
water.  The  hot-water  cans  bore  the  legend  "  hot 
water,"  but  these  two  words  were  occasionally 
the  only  evidence  of  heat  in  the  water.  On  the 
other  hand,  the  bedrooms  could  be  made  sultry 
by  merely  turning  a  handle;  and  the  windows 
were  double.  Nellie  was  wondrously  inventive. 
They  breakfasted  in  bed,  and  she  would  save 
butter  and  honey  from  the  breakfast  to  furnish 
forth  afternoon  tea,  which  w^as  not  included  in 
the  terms.  She  served  the  butter  freshly  with 
ice  by  the  simple  expedient  of  leaving  it  outside 
the  window  of  a  night!  And  Denry  was  struck 
by  this  housewifery. 

The  other  guests  appeared  to  be  of  a  com- 
fortable, companionable  class,  with,  as  Denry 
said,  "  no  frills."  They  were  amazed  to  learn 
that  a  chattering  little  woman  of  thirty-five, 
who  gossiped  with  everybody,  and  soon  invited 
Denry  and  Nellie  to  have  tea  in  her  room,  was 
an  authentic  Kussian  Countess — inscribed  in  the 
visitors'  lists  as  "  Comtesse  Ruhl  (with  maid), 
Moscow."  Her  room  was  the  untidiest  that 
Nellie  had  ever  seen,  and  the  tea  a  picnic.  Still, 
it  was  thrilling  to  have  had  tea  with  a  Russian 


304  Denry  the  Audacious 

Countess.  (Plots!  Nihilism!  Secret  police! 
Marble  palaces!)  Those  visitors'  lists  were 
breath-taking.  Pages  and  pages  of  them ;  scores 
of  hotels,  thousands  of  names,  nearly  all  Eng- 
lish— and  all  people  who  came  to  Switzerland 
in  winter,  having  naught  else  to  do!  Denry 
and  Nellie  bathed  in  correctness  as  in  a  bath. 

The  only  persons  in  the  hotel  with  whom  they 
did  not  "get  on"  nor  "hit  it  off"  were  a  military 
party,  chiefly  named  Clutterbuck,  and  presided 
over  by  a  Major  Clutterbuck  and  his  wife.  They 
sat  at  a  large  table  in  a  corner — father,  mother, 
several  children,  a  sister-in-law,  a  sister,  a 
governess,  eight  heads  in  all;  and  while  utterly 
polite  they  seemed  to  draw  a  ring  round  them- 
selves. They  grumbled  at  the  hotel ;  they  played 
bridge  (then  a  newish  game) ;  and  once,  when 
Denry  and  the  Countess  played  with  them 
(Denry  being  an  adept  card-player)  for  shilling 
points,  Denry  overheard  the  sister-in-law  say 
that  she  was  sure  Captain  Deverax  wouldn't 
play  for  shilling  points.  This  was  the  first 
rumour  of  the  existence  of  Captain  Deverax; 
but  afterwards  Captain  Deverax  began  to  be 
mentioned  several  times  a  day.  Captain  Deve- 
rax was  coming  to  join  them,  and  it  seemed  that 
he  was  a  very  particular  man.  Soon  all  the 
rest  of  the  hotel  had  got  its  back  up  against 
this  arriving  Captain  Deverax.  Then  a  Clut- 
terbuck  cousin    came,    a   smiling,    hard,    flufify 


In  the  Alps  305 

woman,  and  pronounced  definitely  that  tlie  Hotel 
Beau-Site  would  never  do  for  Captain  Deverax. 
This  cousin  aroused  Denry's  hostility  in  a 
strange  way.  She  imparted  to  the  Countess 
(who  united  all  sects)  her  opinion  that  Denry 
and  Nellie  were  on  their  honeymoon.  At  night 
in  a  corner  of  the  drawing-room  the  Countess 
delicately  but  bluntly  asked  Nellie  if  she  had 
been  married  long.  "  No,"  said  Nellie.  "  A 
month?  "  asked  the  Countess  smiling.  "  N-no !  " 
said  Nellie. 

The  next  day  all  the  hotel  knew.  The  vast 
edifice  of  make-believe  that  Denry  and  Nellie 
had  laboriously  erected  crumbled  at  a  word,  and 
they  stood  forth,  those  two,  blushing  for  the 
criminals  they  were. 

The  hotel  was  delighted.  There  is  more  re- 
joicing in  a  hotel  over  one  honeymoon  couple 
than  over  fifty  families  with  children. 

But  the  hotel  had  a  shock  the  same  day.  The 
Clutterbuck  cousin  had  proclaimed  that  owing 
to  the  inadequacy  of  the  bedroom  furniture  she 
had  been  obliged  to  employ  a  sofa  as  a  ward- 
robe. Then  there  were  more  references  to  Cap- 
tain Deverax.  And  then  at  dinner  it  became 
known — Heaven  knows  how ! — that  the  entire 
Clutterbuck  party  had  given  notice  and  was 
seceding  to  the  Hotel  Metropole.  Also  they  had 
tried  to  carry  the  Countess  with  them,  but  had 
failed. 


3o6  Denry  the  Audacious 

Now,  among  the  guests  of  the  Hotel  Beau-Site 
there  had  always  been  a  professed  scorn  of  the 
rival  Hotel  Metropole,  which  was  a  franc  a  day 
dearer  and  famous  for  its  new  and  rich  furniture. 
The  Metropole  had  an  orchestra  twice  a  week, 
and  the  English  Church  services  were  held  in 
its  drawing-room;  and  it  was  larger  than  the 
Beau-Site.  In  spite  of  these  facts  the  clients  of 
the  Beau-Site  affected  to  despise  it,  saying  that 
the  food  was  inferior  and  that  the  guests  were 
snobbish.  It  was  an  article  of  faith  in  the  Beau- 
Site  that  the  Beau-Site  was  the  best  hotel  on 
the  mountainside,  if  not  in  Switzerland. 

The  insolence  of  this  defection  on  the  part  of 
the  Clutterbucks !  How  on  earth  could  people 
have  the  face  to  go  to  a  landlord  and  say  to 
him  that  they  meant  to  desert  him  in  favour 
of  his  rival? 

Another  detail:  the  secession  of  nine  or  ten 
people  from  one  hotel  to  the  other  meant  that 
the  Metropole  would  decidedly  be  more  popu- 
lous than  the  Beau-Site,  and  on  the  point  of 
numbers  the  emulation  was  very  keen.  "  Well !  " 
said  the  Beau-Site,  "  let  'em  go  I  With  their 
Captain  Deverax!  We  shall  be  better  without 
'em !  "  And  that  deadliest  of  all  feuds  sprang 
up — a  rivalry  between  the  guests  of  rival  hotels. 
The  Metropole  had  issued  a  general  invitation 
to  a  dance,  and  after  the  monstrous  conduct  of 
the  Clutterbucks  the  question  arose  whether  the 


In  the  Alps  307 

Beau-Site  should  not  boycott  the  dance.  How- 
ever, it  was  settled  that  the  truly  effective  course 
would  be  to  go  with  critical  noses  in  the  air, 
and  emit  unfavourable  comparisons  with  the 
Beau-Site.  The  Beau-Site  suddenly  became  per- 
fect in  the  esteem  of  its  patrons.  Not  an- 
other word  was  heard  on  the  subject  of  hot 
water  being  coated  with  ice.  And  the  Clutter- 
bucks,  with  incredible  assurance,  slid  their  lug- 
gage off  in  a  sleigh  to  the  Metropole,  in  the 
full  light  of  day,  amid  the  contempt  of  the 
faithful. 


Ill 


Under  the  stars  the  dancing  section  of  the 
Beau-Site  went  off  in  jingling  sleighs  over  the 
snow  to  the  ball  at  the  Metropole.  The  distance 
was  not  great,  but  it  was  great  enough  to  show 
the  inadequacy  of  furs  against  twenty  degrees 
of  mountain  frost,  and  it  was  also  great  enough 
to  allow  the  party  to  come  to  a  general  final 
understanding  that  its  demeanour  must  be  cold 
and  critical  in  the  gilded  halls  of  the  Metropole. 
The  rumour  ran  that  Captain  Deverax  had  ar- 
rived, and  every  one  agreed  that  he  must  be 
an  insufferable  booby,  except  the  Countess  Ruhl, 
who  never  used  her  fluent  exotic  English  to  say 
ill  of  anybody. 

The  gilded  halls  of  the  Metropole  certainly 


3o8  Denry  the  Audacious 

were  imposing.  The  hotel  was  incontestably  larger 
than  the  Beau-Site,  newer,  more  richly  furnished. 
Its  occupants,  too,  had  a  lordly  way  with  them, 
trying  to  others,  but  inimitable.  Hence  the 
visitors  from  the  Beau-Site,  as  they  moved  to 
and  fro  beneath  those  crystal  chandeliers  from 
Tottenham  Court  Road,  had  their  work  cut  out 
to  maintain  the  mien  of  haughty  indifference. 
Nellie,  for  instance,  frankly  could  not  do  it. 
And  Denry  did  not  do  it  very  well. 

Denry  nevertheless  did  score  one  point  over 
Mrs.  Clutterbuck's  fussy  cousin. 

"  Captain  Deverax  has  come,"  said  this 
latter.  "  He  was  very  late.  He  '11  be  down- 
stairs in  a  few  minutes.  We  shall  get  him  to 
lead  the  cotillon." 

"Captain  Deverax?"  Denry  questioned. 

"  Yes.  You  've  heard  us  mention  him,"  said 
the  cousin,  affronted. 

"  Possibly,"  said  Denry.    "  I  don't  remember." 

On  hearing  this  brief  colloquy  the  cohorts  of 
the  Beau-Site  felt  that  in  Denry  they  possessed 
the  making  of  a  champion. 

There  was  a  disturbing  surprise,  however, 
waiting  for  Denry. 

The  lift  descended,  and  with  a  peculiar  double 
action  of  his  arms  on  the  doors,  like  a  panto- 
mime fairy  emerging  from  an  enchanted  castle, 
a  tall,  thin  man  stepped  elegantly  out  of  the 
lift  and  approached  the  company  with  a  certain 


In  the  Alps  309 

mincingness.  But  before  lie  could  reach  the 
company  several  young  women  had  rushed  to- 
wards him,  as  though  with  the  intention  of  com- 
mitting suicide  by  hanging  themselves  from  his 
neck.  He  was  in  an  evening  suit  so  perfect  in 
detail  that  it  might  have  sustained  comparison 
with  the  costume  of  the  head  waiter.  And  he 
wore  an  eyeglass  in  his  left  eye.  It  was  the 
eyeglass  that  made  Denry  jump.  For  two 
seconds  he  dismissed  the  notion.  But  an- 
other two  seconds  of  examination  showed  be- 
yond doubt  that  this  eyeglass  was  the  eyeglass 
of  the  train.     And  Denry  had  apprehensions. 

"Captain  Deverax!"  exclaimed  several  voices. 

The  manner  in  which  the  youthful  and  the 
mature  fair  clustered  around  this  Captain  aged 
forty  (and  not  handsome)  was  really  extraor- 
dinary— to  the  males  of  the  Hotel  Beau-Site. 
Even  the  little  Russian  Countess  attached  her- 
self to  him  at  once.  And  by  reason  of  her 
title,  her  social  energy,  and  her  personal  dis- 
tinction, she  took  natural  precedence  of  the 
others. 

"  Recognise  him? "  Denry  whispered  to  his 
wife. 

Nellie  nodded.  "  He  seems  rather  nice,"  she 
said  diffidently. 

"  Nice!  "  Denry  repeated  the  adjective.  "  The 
man  's  an  ass." 

And    the    majority    of    the    Beau-Site    party 


310  Denry  the  Audacious 

agreed  with  Denry's  verdict  either  by  word  or 
gesture. 

Captain  Deverax  stared  fixedly  at  Denry; 
then  smiled  vaguely  and  drawled,  "  Hullo ! 
How  d'  do?  " 

And  they  shook  hands. 

"  So  you  know  him?  "  some  one  murmured  to 
Denry. 

"  Know  him?  .  .  .     Since  infancy." 

The  inquirer  scented  facetiousness,  but  he  was 
somehow  impressed.  The  remarkable  thing  was 
that  though  he  regarded  Captain  Deverax  as  a 
popinjay,  Denry  could  not  help  feeling  a  certain 
slight  satisfaction  in  the  fact  that  they  were 
in  some  sort  acquaintances.  Mystery  of  the 
human  heart.  He  wished  sincerely  that  he 
had  not,  in  his  conversation  with  the  Captain 
in  the  train,  talked  about  previous  visits  to 
Switzerland.     It  was  dangerous. 

The  dance  achieved  that  brightness  and  jovial- 
ity which  entitle  a  dance  to  call  itself  a  success. 
The  cotillon  reached  brilliance,  owing  to  the 
captaincy  of  Captain  Deverax.  Several  score 
opprobrious  epithets  were  applied  to  the  Cap- 
tain in  the  course  of  the  night,  but  it  was  agreed 
nemine  contradicente  that,  whatever  he  would 
have  done  in  front  of  a  Light  Brigade  at  Bala- 
clava, as  a  leader  of  cotillons  he  was  terrific. 
Many  men,  however,  seemed  to  argue  that  if  a 
man  who  ivas  a  man  led  a  cotillon  he  ought 


In  the  Alps  311 

not  to  lead  it  too  well,  on  pain  of  being  con- 
sidered a  coxcomb. 

At  the  close,  during  the  hot  soup,  the  worst 
happened.     Denry  had  known  that  it  would. 

Captain  Deverax  was  talking  to  Nellie,  who 
was  respectfully  listening,  about  the  scenery, 
when  the  Countess  came  up,  plate  in  hand. 

"  No !  No !  "  the  Countess  protested.  "  As 
for  me,  I  hate  your  mountains.  I  was  born  in 
the  steppe  where  it  is  all  level — level!  Your 
mountains  close  me  in.  I  am  only  here  by 
order  of  my  doctor.  Your  mountains  get  on 
my  nerves."     She  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

Captain  Deverax  smiled. 

"  It  is  the  same  with  you,  isn't  it?"  he  said, 
turning  to  Nellie. 

"  Oh !  no !  "  said  Nellie  simply. 

"  But  your  husband  told  me  the  other  day 
that  when  you  and  he  were  in  Geneva  a  couple 
of  years  ago,  the  view  of  Mont  Blanc  used  to — 
er — upset  you." 

"View  of  Mont  Blanc?"  Nellie  stammered. 

Everybody  was  aware  that  she  and  Denry  had 
never  been  in  Switzerland  before,  and  that  their 
marriage  was  indeed  less  than  a  month  old. 

"  You  misunderstood  me,"  said  Denry  gruffly. 
"  My  wife  has  n't  been  to  Geneva." 

"  Oh !  "  drawled  Captain  Deverax. 

nis  "  Oh !  "  contained  so  much  of  insinuation, 
disdain,     and     lofty     amusement    that     Denry 


312  Denry  the  Audacious 

blushed,  and  when  Nellie  saw  her  husband's 
cheek  she  blushed  in  competition  and  defeated 
him  easily.  It  was  felt  that  either  Denry  had 
been  romancing  to  the  Captain  or  that  he 
had  been  married  before,  unknown  to  his  Nellie, 
and  had  been  "  carrying  on  "  at  Geneva.  The 
situation,  though  it  dissolved  of  itself  in  a  brief 
space,  was  awkward.  It  discredited  the  Hotel 
Beau-Site.  It  was  in  the  nature  of  a  repulse 
for  the  Hotel  Beau-Site  (franc  a  day  cheaper 
than  the  Metropole)  and  of  a  triumph  for  the 
popinjay. 

The  fault  was  utterly  Denry's.  Yet  he  said 
to  himself: 

"  I  '11  be  even  with  that  chap." 

On  the  drive  home  he  was  silent.  The  theme 
of  conversation  in  the  sleighs  which  did  not  con- 
tain the  Countess  was  that  the  Captain  had 
flirted  tremendously  with  the  Countess  and  that 
it  amounted  to  an  affair. 


IV 


Captain  Deverax  was  equally  salient  in  the 
department  of  sports.  There  was  a  fair  sheet 
of  ice,  obtained  by  cutting  into  the  side  of  the 
mountain,  and  a  very  good  tobogganing  track, 
about  half  a  mile  in  length  and  full  of  fine 
curves,  common  to  the  two  hotels.  Denry's  pre- 
dilection was  for  the  track.     He  would  lie  on 


In  the  Alps  313 

his  stomach  on  the  little  contrivance  which  the 
Swiss  call  a  "  luge "  and  which  consists  of 
naught  but  three  bits  of  wood  and  two  steel- 
clad  runners,  and  would  course  down  the  peril- 
ous curves  at  twenty  miles  an  hour.  Until  the 
Captain  came  this  was  regarded  as  dashing,  be- 
cause most  people  were  content  to  sit  on  the 
luge  and  travel  legs  foremost  instead  of  head 
foremost.  But  the  Captain,  after  a  few  eights 
on  the  ice,  intimated  that  for  the  rest  no  sport 
was  true  sport  save  the  sport  of  ski-running. 
He  allowed  it  to  be  understood  that  luges  were 
for  infants.  He  had  brought  his  skis,  and  these 
instruments  of  locomotion,  some  six  feet  in 
length,  made  a  sensation  among  the  inexperi- 
enced. For  when  he  had  strapped  them  to 
his  feet  the  Captain,  while  stating  candidly  that 
his  skill  was  as  nothing  to  that  of  the  Swedish 
professionals  at  St.  Moritz,  could  assuredly  slide 
over  snow  in  a  manner  prodigious  and  beauti- 
ful. And  he  was  exquisitely  clothed  for  the 
part.  His  knickerbockers,  in  the  elegance  of 
their  lines,  were  the  delight  of  beholders.  Ski- 
ing became  the  rage.  Even  Nellie  insisted  on 
hiring  a  pair.  And  the  pronunciation  of  the 
word  "  ski "  aroused  long  discussions  and  was 
never  definitely  settled  by  anybody.  The  Cap- 
tain said  "  skee,"  but  he  did  not  object  to 
"  shee,''  which  was  said  to  be  the  more  strictly 
correct  by  a  lady  who  knew  some  one  who  had 


314  Denry  the  Audacious 

been  to  Norway.  People  with  no  shame  and  no 
feeling  for  correctness  said,  brazenly,  "  sky." 
Denry,  whom  nothing  could  induce  to  desert  his 
luge,  said  that  obviously  "  s-k-i  "  could  only  spell 
"  planks."  And  thanks  to  his  inspiration  this 
version  was  adopted  by  the  majority. 

On  the  second  day  of  Nellie's  struggle  witH 
her  skis  she  had  more  success  than  slie  either 
anticipated  or  desired.  She  had  been  making 
experiments  at  the  summit  of  the  track,  slither- 
ing about,  falling  and  being  restored  to  upright- 
ness by  as  many  persons  as  happened  to  be 
near.  Skis  seemed  to  her  to  be  the  most  un- 
governable and  least  practical  means  of  travel 
that  the  madness  of  man  had  ever  concocted. 
Skates  were  well-behaved  old  horses  compared 
to  these  long,  untamed  fiends,  and  a  luge  was 
like  a  tricycle.  Then  suddenly  a  friendly  start- 
ing push  drove  her  a  yard  or  two,  and  she 
glided  past  the  level  on  to  the  first  imperceptible 
slope  of  the  track.  By  some  hazard  her  two 
planks  were  exactly  parallel,  as  they  ought  to 
be,  and  she  glided  forward  miraculously.  And 
people  heard  her  say: 

"  How  lovely !  " 

And  then  people  heard  her  say: 

"Oh!  .  .  .     Oh!" 

For  her  pace  was  increasing.  And  she  dared 
not  strike  her  pole  into  the  ground.  She  had, 
in   fact,   no   control   whatever   over   those   two 


In  the  Alps  315 

planks  to  which  her  feet  were  strapped.  She 
might  have  been  Mazeppa  and  they,  mustangs. 
She  could  not  even  fall.  So  she  fled  down  the 
preliminary  straight  of  the  track,  and  ecstatic 
spectators  cried :  "  Look  how  well  Mrs.  Machin 
is  doing! " 

Mrs.  Machin  would  have  given  all  her  furs  to 
be  anywhere  olf  those  planks.  On  the  adjacent 
fields  of  glittering  snow  the  Captain  had  been 
giving  his  adored  Countess  a  lesson  in  the  use 
of  skis;  and  they  stood  together,  the  Countess 
somewhat  insecure,  by  the  side  of  the  track  at 
its  first  curve. 

Nellie,  dumb  with  excitement  and  amazement, 
swept  towards  them. 

"  Look  out !  "  cried  the  Captain. 

In  vain !  He  himself  might  perhaps  have  es- 
caped, but  he  could  not  abandon  his  Countess 
in  the  moment  of  peril,  and  the  Countess  could 
only  move  after  much  thought  and  many  efforts, 
being  scarce  more  advanced  than  Nellie.  Nellie's 
wilful  planks  quite  ignored  the  curve,  and,  as  it 
were  afloat  on  them,  she  charged  off  the  track, 
and  into  the  Captain  and  the  Countess.  The 
impact  was  tremendous.  Six  skis  waved  like 
semaphores  in  the  air.  Then  all  was  still. 
Then,  as  the  beholders  hastened  to  the  scene 
of  the  disaster,  the  Countess  laughed  and  Nellie 
laughed.  The  laugh  of  the  Captain  was  not 
heard.     The  sole  casualty  was  a  wound  about 


3i6  Denry  the  Audacious 

a  foot  long  in  the  hinterland  of  the  Captain's 
unique  knickerbockers.  And  as  threads  of  that 
beautiful  check  pattern  were  afterwards  found 
attached  to  the  wheel  of  Nellie's  pole,  the  cause 
of  the  wound  was  indisputable.  The  Captain  de- 
parted home  chiefly  backwards,  but  with  great 
rapidity. 

In  the  afternoon  Denry  went  down  to  Mon- 
treux  and  returned  with  an  opal  bracelet,  which 
Nellie  wore  at  dinner. 

"  Oh !     What  a  ripping  bracelet !  "  said  a  girl. 

"  Yes,"  said  Nellie.  "  My  husband  gave  it  me 
only  to-day." 

"  I  suppose  it 's  your  birthday  or  something," 
the  inquisitive  girl  ventured. 

«  No,"  said  Nellie. 

"  How  nice  of  him !  "  said  the  girl. 

The  next  day  Captain  Deverax  appeared  in 
riding  breeches.  They  were  not  correct  for  ski- 
running,  but  they  were  the  best  he  could  do. 
He  visited  a  tailor's  in  Montreux. 


The  Countess  Ruhl  had  a  large  sleigh  of  her 
own,  also  a  horse;  both  were  hired  from  Mon- 
treux. In  this  vehicle,  sometimes  alone,  some- 
times with  a  male  servant,  she  would  drive  at 
Russian  speed  over  the  undulating  mountain 
roads;  and  for  such  expeditions  she  always  wore 


In  the  Alps  317 

a  large  red  cloak  with  a  hood.  Often  she  was 
thus  seen,  in  the  afternoon;  the  scarlet  made  a 
bright  moving  patch  on  the  vast  expanses  of 
snow.  Once,  at  some  distance  from  the  village, 
two  tale-tellers  observed  a  man  on  skis  career- 
ing in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  sleigh.  It  was 
Captain  Deverax.  The  flirtation,  therefore,  was 
growing  warmer  and  warmer.  The  hotels 
hummed  with  the  tidings  of  it.  But  the  Count- 
ess never  said  anything;  nor  could  anything  be 
extracted  from  her  by  even  the  most  experienced 
gossips.  She  was  an  agreeable  but  a  mysterious 
woman,  as  befitted  a  Russian  Countess.  Again 
and  again  were  she  and  the  Captain  seen  to- 
gether afar  off  in  the  landscape.  Certainly  it 
was  a  novelty  in  flirtations.  People  wondered 
what  might  happen  between  the  two  at  the 
fancy-dress  ball  which  the  Hotel  Beau-Site  was 
to  give  in  return  for  the  hospitality  of  the  Hotel 
Metropole.  The  ball  was  offered  not  in  love, 
but  in  emulation,  almost  in  hate ;  for  the  jealousy 
displayed  by  the  Beau-Site  against  the  increas- 
ing insolence  and  prosperity  of  the  Metropole 
had  become  acute.  The  airs  of  the  Captain  and 
his  lieges,  the  Clutterbuck  party,  had  reached 
the  limit  of  the  Beau-Site's  endurance.  The 
Metropole  seemed  to  take  it  for  granted  that 
the  Captain  would  lead  the  cotillon  at  the 
Beau-Site's  ball  as  he  had  led  it  at  the 
Metropole's. 


3i8  Denry  the  Audacious 

And  then,  on  the  very  afternoon  of  the  ball, 
the  Countess  received  a  telegram — it  was  said 
from  St.  Petersburg — which  necessitated  her  in- 
stant departure.  And  she  went,  in  an  hour, 
down  to  Montreux  by  the  funicular  railway,  and 
was  lost  to  the  Beau-Site.  This  was  a  blow  to 
the  prestige  of  the  Beau-Site.  For  the  Countess 
was  its  chief  star,  and  moreover  much  loved  by 
her  fellow  guests,  despite  her  curious  weakness 
for  the  popinjay,  and  the  mystery  of  her  outings 
with  him. 

In  the  stables  Denry  saw  the  Countess's  hired 
sleigh  and  horse,  and  in  the  sleigh  her  glowing 
red  cloak.  And  he  had  one  of  his  ideas,  wh4ch 
he  executed,  although  snow  was  beginning  to 
fall.  In  ten  minutes  he  and  Nellie  were  driving 
forth,  and  Nellie  in  the  red  cloak  held  the  reins. 
Denry,  in  a  coachman's  furs,  sat  behind.  They 
whirled  past  the  Hotel  Metropole.  And  shortly 
afterwards,  on  the  wild  road  towards  Attalens, 
Denry  saw  a  pair  of  skis  scudding  as  quickly 
as  skis  can  scud  in  their  rear.  It  was  astonish- 
ing how  the  sleigh,  with  all  the  merry  jingle 
of  its  bells,  kept  that  pair  of  skis  at  a  distance 
of  about  a  hundred  yards.  It  seemed  to  in- 
vite the  skis  to  overtake  it,  and  then  to  regret 
the  invitation  and  flee  further.  Up  the  hills  it 
would  crawl,  for  the  skis  climbed  slowly.  Down 
them  it  galloped,  for  the  skis  slid  on  the  slopes 
at  a  dizzy  pace.      Occasionally  a  shout  came 


In  the  Alps  319 

from  the  skis.  And  the  snow  fell  thicker  and 
thicker.  So  for  four  or  five  miles.  Starlight 
commenced.  Then  the  road  made  a  huge  de- 
scending curve  round  a  hollowed  meadow,  and 
the  horse  galloped  its  best.  But  the  skis, 
making  a  straight  line  down  the  snow,  ac- 
quired the  speed  of  an  express,  and  gained  on 
the  sleigh  one  yard  in  every  three.  At  the  bot- 
tom, where  the  curve  met  the  straight  line,  was 
a  farmhouse  and  out-buildings  and  a  hedge  and 
a  stone  wall  and  other  matters.  The  sleigh  ar- 
rived at  the  point  first,  but  only  by  a  trifle. 
"  Mind  your  toes,"  Denry  muttered  to  himself, 
meaning  an  injunction  to  the  skis,  whose  toes 
were  three  feet  long.  The  skis,  through  the 
eddying  snow,  yelled  frantically  to  the  sleigh 
to  give  room.  The  skis  shot  up  into  the 
road,  and  in  swerving  aside  swerved  into 
a  snow-laden  hedge,  and  clean  over  it  into 
the  farmyard,  where  they  stuck  themselves 
up  in  the  air,  as  skis  will  when  the  person 
to  whose  feet  they  are  attached  is  lying  prone. 
The  door  of  the  farmhouse  opened  and  a  woman 
appeared. 

She  saw  the  skis  at  her  doorstep.  She  heard 
the  sleigh-bells,  but  the  sleigh  had  already  van- 
ished into  the  dusk. 

"  Well,  that  was  a  bit  of  a  lark,  that  was. 
Countess!"  said  Denry  to  Nellie.  "That  will 
be  something  to  talk  about.     We  'd  better  drive 


320  Denry  the  Audacious 

home  through  Corsier,  and  quick  too !  It  '11  be 
quite  dark  soon." 

"  Supposing  he 's  dead?  "  Nellie  breathed, 
aghast,  reining  in  the  horse. 

"  Not  he !  "  said  Denry.  "  I  saw  him  begin- 
ning to  sit  up." 

"  But  how  will  he  get  home?  " 

"  It  looks  a  very  nice  farmhouse,"  said  Denry. 
"  I  should  think  he  'd  be  sorry  to  leave  it." 

VI 

When  Denry  entered  the  dining-room  of  the 
Beau-Site,  which  had  been  cleared  for  the  ball, 
his  costume  drew  attention  not  so  much  by  its 
splendour  or  ingenuity  as  by  its  peculiarity.  He 
wore  a  short  Chinese-shaped  jacket,  which  his 
wife  had  made  out  of  blue  linen,  and  a  flat 
Chinese  hat  to  match,  which  they  had  con- 
structed together  on  a  basis  of  cardboard.  But 
his  thighs  were  enclosed  in  a  pair  of  absurdly 
ample  riding  breeches  of  an  impressive  check 
and  cut  to  a  comic  exaggeration  of  the  English 
pattern.  He  had  bought  the  cloth  for  these  at 
the  tailor's  in  Montreux.  Below  them  were  very 
tight  leggings,  also  English.  In  reply  to  a  ques- 
tion as  to  what  or  whom  he  supposed  himself 
to  represent  he  replied : 
"  A  Captain  of  Chinese  cavalry,  of  course." 
And  he  put  an  eyeglass  into  his  left  eye  and 
stared  about. 


In  the  Alps  321 

Now  it  had  been  understood  that  Nellie  was 
to  appear  as  Lady  Jane  Grey.  But  she  appeared 
as  Little  Red  Riding  Hood,  wearing  over  her 
frock  the  forgotten  cloak  of  the  Countess  Ruhl. 

Instantly  he  saw  her,  Denry  hurried  towards 
her,  with  a  movement  of  the  legs  and  a  flourish 
of  the  eyeglass  in  his  left  hand  which  power- 
fully suggested  a  figure  familiar  to  every  mem- 
ber of  the  company.  There  was  laughter. 
People  saw  that  the  idea  was  immensely  funny 
and  clever,  and  the  laughter  ran  about  like  fire. 
At  the  same  time  some  persons  were  not  quite 
sure  whether  Denry  had  not  lapsed  a  little  from 
the  finest  taste  in  this  caricature.  And  all  of 
them  were  secretly  afraid  that  the  uncomfort- 
able might  happen  when  Captain  Deverax 
arrived. 

However,  Captain  Deverax  did  not  arrive. 
The  party  from  the  Metropole  came  with  the 
news  that  he  had  not  been  seen  at  the  hotel 
for  dinner;  it  was  assumed  that  he  had  been  to 
Montreux  and  missed  the  funicular  back. 

"  Our  two  stars  simultaneously  eclipsed !  " 
said  Denry,  as  the  Clutterbucks  (representing 
all  the  history  of  England)  stared  at  him 
curiously. 

"Why?"  exclaimed  the  Clutterbuck  cousin. 
"Who's  the  other?" 

"  The  Countess,"  said  Denry.  "  She  went  this 
afternoon — three  o'clock." 


322  Denry  the  Audacious 

And  all  the  M6tropole  party  fell  into  grief. 

"  It 's  a  world  of  coincidences,"  said  Denry, 
with  emphasis. 

"  You  don't  mean  to  insinuate,"  said  Mrs. 
Clutterbuck,  with  a  nervous  laugh,  "that  Captain 
Deverax  has — er — gone  after  the  Countess?  " 

"  Oh,  no !  "  said  Denry  with  unction.  "  Such 
a  thought  never  entered  my  head." 

"  I  think  you  're  a  very  strange  man,  Mr. 
Machin,"  retorted  Mrs.  Clutterbuck,  hostile  and 
not  a  bit  reassured.  "  May  one  ask  what  that 
costume  is  supposed  to  be?  " 

"  A  Captain  of  Chinese  cavalry,"  said  Denry, 
lifting  his  eyeglass. 

Nevertheless,  the  dance  was  a  remarkable  suc- 
cess, and  little  by  little  even  the  sternest  ad- 
herents of  absent  Captain  Deverax  deigned  to 
be  amused  by  Denry's  Chinese  gestures.  Also, 
Denry  led  the  cotillon,  and  was  thereafter 
greatly  applauded  by  the  Beau-Site.  The  visit- 
ors agreed  among  themselves  that,  considering 
that  his  name  was  not  Deverax,  Denry  acquitted 
himself  honourably.  Later  he  went  to  the 
bureau,  and  returning,  whispered  to  his  wife: 

"  It 's  all  right.     He 's  come  back  safe." 

"  How  do  you  know?  " 

"  I  've  just  telephoned  to  ask." 

Denry's  subsequent  humour  was  wildly  gay. 
And  for  some  reason  which  nobody  could  com- 
prehend he  put  a  sling  round  his  left  arm.     His 


In  the  Alps  323 

efforts  to  insert  the  eyeglass  into  his  left  eye 
with  his  right  hand  were  insistently  ludicrous 
and  became  a  sure  source  of  laughter  for  all 
beholders.  When  the  M^tropole  party  were  get- 
ting into  their  sleighs  to  go  home — it  had  ceased 
snowing — Denry  was  still  trying  to  insert  his 
eyeglass  into  his  left  eye  with  his  right  hand, 
to  the  universal  joy. 


VII 


But  the  joy  of  the  night  was  feeble  in  com- 
parison with  the  violent  joy  of  the  next  morn- 
ing. Denry  was  wandering,  apparently  aimless, 
between  the  finish  of  the  tobogganing  track  and 
the  portals  of  the  Metropole.  The  snowfall  had 
repaired  the  defects  of  the  worn  track,  but  it 
needed  to  be  flattened  down  by  use,  and  a  num- 
ber of  conscientious  "  lugeurs  "  were  flattening 
it  by  frequent  descents,  which  grew  faster  at 
each  repetition.  Other  holiday  makers  were 
idling  about  in  the  sunshine.  A  page-boy  of 
the  Metropole  departed  in  the  direction  of  the 
Beau-Site  with  a  note  in  his  hand. 

At  length — the  hour  was  nearing  eleven — 
Captain  Deverax,  languid,  put  his  head  out  of 
the  Metropole  and  sniffled  the  air.  Finding  the 
air  sufferable,  he  came  forth  on  to  the  steps. 
His  left  arm  was  in  a  sling.  He  was  wearing 
the  new  knickerbockers  which  he  had  ordered 


324  Denry  the  Audacious 

at  Montreux,  and  which  were  of  precisely  the 
same  vast  check  as  had  ornamented  Denry's  legs 
on  the  previous  night. 

"  Hullo ! "  said  Denry  sympathetically. 
"What's  this?" 

The  Captain  needed  sympathy. 

"  Ski-ing  yesterday  afternoon,"  said  he,  with 
a  little  laugh.  "  Has  n't  the  Countess  told  any 
of  you?  " 

"  No,"  said  Denry.     "  Not  a  word." 

The  Captain  seemed  to  pause  a  moment. 

"  Yes,"  said  he.  "  A  trifling  accident.  I  was 
ski-ing  with  the  Countess.  That  is,  I  was 
ski-ing  and  she  w^as  in  her  sleigh." 

"  Then  this  is  why  you  did  n't  turn  up  at  the 
dance?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  the  Captain. 

"  Well,"  said  Denry.  "  I  hope  it 's  not  seri- 
ous. I  can  tell  you  one  thing,  the  cotillon  was 
a  most  fearful  frost  without  you."  The  Captain 
seemed  grateful. 

They  strolled  together  towards  the  track. 

The  first  group  of  people  that  caught  sight 
of  the  Captain  with  his  checked  legs  and  his 
arm  in  a  sling  began  to  smile.  Observing  this 
smile,  and  fancying  himself  deceived,  the  Cap- 
tain attempted  to  put  his  eyeglass  into  his  left 
eye  with  his  right  hand,  and  regularly  failed. 
His  efforts  towards  this  feat  changed  the  smiles 
to  enormous  laughter. 


In  the  Alps  325 

"  I  dare  say  it 's  awfully  funny,"  said  he. 
"  But  what  can  a  fellow  do  with  one  arm  in  a 
sling?  " 

The  laughter  was  merely  intensified.  And  the 
group,  growing  as  luge  after  luge  arrived  at 
the  end  of  the  track,  seemed  to  give  itself  up  to 
mirth,  to  the  exclusion  of  even  a  proper  curi- 
osity about  the  nature  of  the  Captain's  damage. 
Each  fresh  attempt  to  put  the  eyeglass  to  his 
eye  was  coal  on  the  crackling  fire.  The  Clutter- 
bucks  alone  seemed  glum. 

"  What  on  earth  is  the  joke?  "  Denry  asked 
primly.  "  Captain  Deverax  came  to  grief  late 
yesterday  afternoon,  ski-ing  with  the  Countess 
Euhl.  That 's  why  he  did  n't  turn  up  last  night. 
By  the  way,  where  was  it,  Captain?  " 

"  On  the  mountain,  near  Attalens,"  Deverax 
answered  gloomily.  "  Happily  there  was  a  farm- 
house near — it  was  almost  dark." 

"  With  the  Countess? "  demanded  a  young 
impulsive  schoolgirl. 

"You  did  say  the  Countess,  didn't  you?" 
Denry  asked. 

"  Why,  certainly,"  said  the  Captain  testily. 

"  Well,"  said  the  schoolgirl  with  the  non- 
chalant thoughtless  cruelty  of  youth,  "  consider- 
ing that  we  all  saw  the  Countess  off  in  the 
funicular  at  three  o'clock  I  don't  see  how  you 
could  have  been  ski-ing  with  her  when  it  was 
nearly  dark."     And  the  child  turned  up  the  hill 


326  Denry  the  Audacious 

with  her  luge,  leaving  her  elders  to  unknot  the 
situation. 

"  Oh,  yes !  "  said  Denry.  "  I  forgot  to  tell  you 
that  the  Countess  left  yesterday  after  lunch." 

At  the  same  moment  the  page-boy,  reappear- 
ing, touched  his  cap  and  placed  a  note  in  the 
Captain's  only  free  hand. 

"  Could  n't  deliver  it,  Sir.  The  Comtesse  left 
early  yesterday  afternoon." 

Convicted  of  imaginary  adventure  with  noble 
ladies,  the  Captain  made  his  retreat,  muttering, 
back  to  the  hotel.  At  lunch  Denry  related  the 
exact  circumstances  to  a  delighted  table,  and 
the  exact  circumstances  soon  reached  the  Clutter- 
buck  faction  at  the  Metropole.  On  the  follow- 
ing day  the  Clutterbuck  faction  and  Captain 
Deverax  (now  fully  enlightened)  left  Mont  Pri- 
doux  for  some  paradise  unknown.  If  murderous 
thoughts  could  kill,  Denry  would  have  lain  dead. 
But  he  survived  to  go  with  about  half  the  Beau- 
Site  guests  to  the  funicular  station  to  wish  the 
Clutterbucks  a  pleasant  journey.  The  Captain 
might  have  challenged  him  to  a  duel,  but  a 
haughty  and  icy  ceremoniousness  was  deemed 
the  best  treatment  for  Denry.  "  Never  show  a 
wound  "  must  have  been  the  Captain's  motto. 

The  Beau-Site  had  scored  effectively.  And, 
now  that  its  rival  had  lost  eleven  clients  by 
one  single  train,  it  beat  the  Metropole  even  in 
vulgar  numbers. 


In  the  Alps  327 

Denry  had  an  embryo  of  a  conscience  some- 
where, and  Nellie's  was  fully  developed. 

"  Well,"  said  Denry,  in  reply  to  Nellie's  con- 
science, "  it  serves  him  right  for  making  me  look 
a  fool  over  that  Geneva  business.  And  besides, 
1  can't  stand  uppishness,  and  I  won't.  I  'm  from 
the  Five  Towns,  I  am." 

Upon  which  singular  utterance  the  incident 
closed. 


CHAPTER  XII.  THE  SUPREME  HONOUR 


Denry  was  not  as  regular  in  his  goings  and 
comings  as  the  generality  of  business  men  in 
the  Five  Towns;  no  doubt  because  he  was  not 
by  nature  a  business  man  at  all,  but  an  adven- 
turous spirit  who  happened  to  be  in  a  business 
which  was  much  too  good  to  leave.  He  was 
continually,  as  they  say  there,  "  up  to  some- 
thing "  that  caused  changes  in  daily  habits. 
Moreover,  the  Universal  Thrift  Club  (Limited) 
was  so  automatic  and  self-winding  that  Denry 
ran  no  risks  in  leaving  it  often  to  the  care  of 
his  highly-drilled  staff.  Still,  he  did  usually 
come  home  to  his  tea  about  six  o'clock  of  an  even- 
ing, like  the  rest,  and  like  the  rest  he  brought 
with  him  a  copy  of  the  Signal  to  glance  at  during 
tea. 

One  afternoon  in  July  he  arrived  thus  upon 
his  waiting  wife  at  Machin  House,  Bleakridge. 
And  she  could  see  that  an  idea  was  fermenting 
in  his  head.  Nellie  understood  him.  One  of 
the  most  delightful  and  reassuring  things  about 
his  married  life  was  Nellie's  instinctive  compre- 

328 


The  Supreme  Honour  329 

hension  of  him.  His  mother  understood  him 
profoundly.  But  she  understood  him  in  a  man- 
ner sardonic,  slightly  malicious,  and  even  hostile. 
Whereas  Nellie  understood  him  with  her  absurd 
love.  According  to  his  mother's  attitude,  Denry 
was  guilty  till  he  had  proved  himself  innocent. 
According  to  Nellie's,  he  was  always  right  and 
always  clever  in  what  he  did,  until  he  himself 
said  that  he  had  been  wrong  and  stupid — and 
not  always  then.  Nevertheless,  his  mother  was 
just  as  ridiculously  proud  of  him  as  Nellie  was; 
but  she  would  have  perished  on  the  scaffold 
rather  than  admit  that  Denry  differed  in  any 
detail  from  the  common  run  of  sons.  Mrs. 
Machin  had  departed  from  Machin  House,  with- 
out waiting  to  be  asked.  It  was  characteristic 
of  her  that  she  had  returned  to  Brougham  Street 
and  rented  there  an  out-of-date  cottage  without 
a  single  one  of  the  labour-saving  contrivances 
that  distinguished  the  residence  which  her  son 
had  originally  built  for  her. 

It  was  still  delicious  for  Denry  to  sit  down 
to  tea  in  the  dining-room,  that  miracle  of  con- 
veniences, opposite  the  smile  of  his  wife,  which 
told  him  (a)  that  he  was  wonderful,  (5)  that 
she  was  enchanted  to  be  alive,  and  (c)  that  he 
had  deserved  her  particular  caressing  attentions 
and  would  receive  them.  On  the  afternoon  in 
July  the  smile  told  him  (d)  that  he  was  pos- 
sessed by  one  of  his  ideas. 


330  Denry  the  Audacious 

"  Extraordinary  how  she  tumbles  to  things !  " 
he  reflected. 

Nellie's  new  fox-terrier  had  come  in  from  the 
garden  through  the  French  window,  and  eaten 
part  of  a  muffin,  and  Denry  had  eaten  a 
muffin  and  a  half,  before  Nellie,  straighten- 
ing herself  proudly  and  putting  her  shoul- 
ders back  (a  gesture  of  hers),  thought  fit  to 
murmur : 

"Well,  anything  thrilling  happened  to-day?" 

Denry  opened  the  green  sheet  and  read : 

"  Sudden  death  of  Alderman  Bloor  in  London. 
What  price  that?  " 

"  Oh !  "  exclaimed  Nellie.  "  How  shocked 
father  will  be!  They  were  always  rather 
friendly.  By  the  way,  I  had  a  letter  from 
mother  this  morning.  It  appears  as  if  Toronto 
was  a  sort  of  paradise.  But  you  can  see  the 
old  thing  prefers  Bursley.  Father  's  had  a  boil 
on  his  neck,  just  at  the  edge  of  his  collar.  He 
says  it 's  because  he  's  too  well.  What  did  Mr. 
Bloor  die  of?  " 

"  He  was  in  the  fashion,"  said  Denry. 

"  How?  " 

"Appendicitis,  of  course.  Operation — domino ! 
All  over  in  three  days." 

"  Poor  man !  "  Nellie  murmured,  trying  to  feel 
sad  for  a  change,  and  not  succeeding,  "  And 
he  was  to  have  been  mayor  in  November,  was  n't 
he?     How  disappointing  for  him!  " 


The  Supreme  Honour  331 

"  I  expect  he  's  got  something  else  to  think 
about,"  said  Denry. 

After  a  pause  Nellie  asked  suddenly: 

"  Who  '11  be  mayor — now?  " 

"  Well,"  said  Denry,  "  his  Worship,  Councillor 
Barlow,  J.  P.,  will  be  extremely  cross  if  he 
isn't." 

"  How  horrid !  "  said  Nellie  frankly.  "  And 
he  's  got  nobody  at  all  to  be  mayoress." 

"  Mrs.  Prettyman  would  be  mayoress,"  said 
Denry.  "  When  there 's  no  wife  or  daughter, 
it 's  always  a  sister  if  there  is  one." 

"  But  can  you  imagine  Mrs.  Prettyman  as 
mayoress?  Why,  they  say  she  scrubs  her  own 
doorstep — after  dark.  They  ought  to  make  you 
mayor!  " 

"  Do  you  fancy  yourself  as  mayoress? "  he 
inquired. 

"  I  should  be  better  than  Mrs.  Prettyman 
anyhow  I " 

"  I  believe  you  'd  make  an  Al  mayoress,"  said 
Denry. 

"  I  should  be  frightfully  nervous,"  she  con- 
fidentially admitted. 

"  I  doubt  it,"  said  he. 

The  fact  was  that  since  her  return  to  Bursley 
from  the  honeymoon  Nellie  was  an  altered 
woman.  She  had  acquired,  as  it  were  in  a  day, 
to  an  astonishing  extent,  what  in  the  Five  Towns 
is  called  "  a  nerve." 


332  Denry  the  Audacious 

"  I  should  like  to  try  it,"  said  she. 

"  One  day  you  '11  have  to  try  it,  whether  you 
want  to  or  not." 

"  When  will  that  be?  " 

"  Don't  know.  Might  be  next  year  but  one. 
Old  Barlow  's  pretty  certain  to  be  chosen  for 
next  November.  It 's  looked  on  as  his  turn  next. 
I  know  there's  been  a  good  bit  of  talk  about 
me  for  the  year  after  Barlow.  Of  course, 
Bloor's  death  will  advance  everything  by  a  year. 
But  even  if  I  come  next  after  Barlow  it  '11  be 
too  late." 

"  Too  late?    Too  late  for  what?  " 

"  I  '11  tell  you,"  said  Denry.  "  I  wanted  to 
be  the  youngest  mayor  that  Bursley  's  ever  had. 
It  was  only  a  kind  of  notion  I  had,  a  long  time 
ago.  I  'd  given  it  up,  because  I  knew  there  was 
no  chance,  unless  I  came  before  Bloor,  which 
of  course  I  could  n't  do.  Now  he  's  dead.  If  I 
could  upset  old  Barlow's  apple-cart  I  should  just 
be  the  youngest  mayor  by  the  skin  of  my  teeth. 
Huskinson,  the  mayor  in  1884,  was  aged  thirty- 
four  and  six  months.  I  've  looked  it  all  up  this 
afternoon." 

"  How  lovely  if  you  could  be  the  youngest 
mayor ! " 

"Yes.  I'll  tell  you  how  I  feel.  I  feel  as 
though  I  didn't  want  to  be  mayor  at  all  if  I 
can't  be  the  youngest  mayor  .  .  .  you  know." 

She  knew. 


The  Supreme  Honour  333 

"  Oh !  "  she  cried.  "  Do  upset  Mr.  Barlow's 
apple-cart.  He  's  a  horrid  old  thing.  Should 
1  be  the  youngest  mayoress?  " 

"  Not  by  chalks !  "  said  he.  "  Huskinson's 
sister  was  only  sixteen." 

"  But  that 's  only  playing  at  being  mayor- 
ess ! "  Nellie  protested.  "  Anyhow,  I  do  think 
you  might  be  youngest  mayor.  Who  settles 
it?" 

"  The  Council,  of  course." 

"  Nobody  likes  Councillor  Barlow." 

"  He  '11  be  still  less  liked  when  he  's  wound  up 
the  Bursley  Football  Club." 

"  Well,  urge  him  on  to  wind  it  up,  then.  But 
I  don't  see  what  football  has  got  to  do  with 
being  mayor." 

She  endeavoured  to  look  like  a  serious 
politician. 

"  You  are  nothing  but  a  cuckoo,"  Denry  pleas- 
antly informed  her.  "  Football  has  got  to  do 
with  everything.  And  it's  been  a  disastrous 
mistake  in  my  career  that  I  've  never  taken  any 
interest  in  football.  Old  Barlow  wants  no  urg- 
ing on  to  wind  up  the  Football  Club.  He 's 
absolutely  set  on  it.  He's  lost  too  much  over 
it.  If  I  could  stop  him  from  winding  it  up, 
I  might  .  .  ." 

"  What?  " 

"  I  dunno." 

She  perceived  that  his  idea  was  yet  vague. 


334  Denry  the  Audacious 

II 

Not  very  many  days  afterwards  the  walls  of 
Bursley  sharply  called  attention,  by  small  blue 
and  red  posters  (blue  and  red  being  the  historic 
colours  of  the  Bursley  Football  Club),  to  a  pub- 
lic meeting  which  was  to  be  held  in  the  Town 
Hall,  under  the  presidency  of  the  Mayor,  to 
consider  what  steps  could  be  taken  to  secure 
the  future  of  the  Bursley  Football  Club. 

There  were  two  "  great "  football  clubs  in  the 
Five  Towns — Knype,  one  of  the  oldest  clubs  in 
England,  and  Bursley.  Both  were  in  the  League, 
though  Knype  was  in  the  first  division  while 
Bursley  was  only  in  the  second.  Both  were,  in 
fact,  limited  companies,  engaged  as  much  in  the 
pursuit  of  dividends  as  in  the  practice  of  the 
one  ancient  and  glorious  sport  which  appeals 
to  the  reason  and  the  heart  of  England. 
(Neither  ever  paid  a  dividend.)  Both  employed 
professionals,  who,  by  a  strange  chance,  were 
nearly  all  born  in  Scotland;  and  both  also  em- 
ployed trainers  who  before  an  important  match 
took  the  teams  off  to  a  hydropathic  establishment 
far,  far  distant  from  any  public-house.  (This 
was  called  "training.")  Now,  whereas  the 
Knype  Club  was  struggling  along  fairly  well, 
the  Bursley  Club  had  come  to  the  end  of  its 
resources.  The  great  football  public  had  prac- 
tically deserted  it.     The  explanation,  of  course. 


The  Supreme  Honour  335 

was  that  Bursley  had  been  losing  too  many 
matches.  The  great  football  public  had  no  use 
for  anything  but  victories.  It  would  treat  its 
players  like  gods — so  long  as  they  won.  But 
when  they  happened  to  lose,  the  great  football 
public  simply  sulked.  It  did  not  kick  a  man 
that  was  down;  it  merely  ignored  him,  well 
knowing  that  the  man  could  not  get  up  without 
help.  It  cared  nothing  whatever  for  fidelity, 
municipal  patriotism,  fair  play,  the  chances  of 
war,  or  dividends  on  capital.  If  it  could  see 
victories  it  would  pay  sixpence,  but  it  would 
not  pay  sixpence  to  assist  at  defeats. 

Still,  when  at  a  special  general  meeting  of 
the  Bursley  Football  Club,  Limited,  held  at  the 
registered  offices,  the  Coffee  House,  Bursley, 
Councillor  Barlow,  J.  P.,  chairman  of  the  com- 
pany since  the  creation  of  the  League,  announced 
that  the  directors  had  reluctantly  come  to 
the  conclusion  that  they  could  not  conscien- 
tiously embark  on  the  dangerous  risks  of  the 
approaching  season,  and  that  it  was  the  intention 
of  the  directors  to  wind  up  the  Club,  in  default 
of  adequate  public  interest — when  Bursley  read 
this  in  the  Signal,  the  town  was  certainly 
shocked.  Was  the  famous  club,  then,  to  dis- 
appear for  ever,  and  the  football  ground  to  be 
sold  in  plots  and  the  grandstand  for  fire- 
wood? The  shock  was  so  severe  that  the 
death    of    Alderman    Bloor    (none    the    less   a 


336  Denry  the  Audacious 

mighty  figure  in  Bursley)  passed  as  a  minor 
event. 

Hence  the  advertisement  of  the  meeting  in  the 
Town  Hall  caused  joy  and  hope,  and  people  said 
to  themselves,  "  Something's  bound  to  be  done; 
the  old  Club  can't  go  out  like  that."  And  every- 
body grew  quite  sentimental.  And  although 
nothing  is  supposed  to  be  capable  of  filling  Burs- 
ley  Town  Hall  except  a  political  meeting  and 
an  old  folks'  treat,  Bursley  To^ti  Hall  was  as 
near  full  as  made  no  matter  for  the  football 
question.  Many  men  had  cheerfully  sacrificed 
a  game  of  billiards  and  a  glass  of  beer  in  order 
to  attend  it. 

The  Mayor,  in  the  chair,  was  a  mild  old  gen- 
tleman who  knew  nothing  whatever  about  foot- 
ball and  had  probably  never  seen  a  football 
match;  but  it  was  essential  that  the  meeting 
should  have  august  patronage,  and  so  the  Mayor 
had  been  trapped  and  tamed.  On  the  mere  fact 
that  he  paid  an  annual  subscription  to  the  golf 
club  certain  parties  built  up  the  legend  that  he 
was  a  true  sportsman  with  the  true  interests  of 
sport  in  his  soul. 

He  uttered  a  few  phrases  such  as  "  the  manly 
game,"  "  old  associations,"  "  bound  up  with  the 
history  of  England,"  "  splendid  fellows,"  "  in- 
domitable pluck,"  "dogged  by  misfortune"  (in- 
deed, he  produced  quite  an  impression  on 
the    rude   and    grim    audience),    and    then    he 


The  Supreme  Honour  337 

called  upon  Councillor  Barlow  to  make  a 
statement. 

Councillor  Barlow,  on  the  Mayor's  right,  was 
a  different  kind  of  man  from  the  Mayor.  He 
was  fifty  and  iron-grey,  with  whiskers,  but  no 
moustache;  short,  stoutish,  raspish. 

He  said  nothing  about  manliness,  pluck, 
history,  or  auld  lang  syne. 

He  said  he  had  given  his  services  as  chairman 
to  the  Football  Club  for  thirteen  years;  that  he 
had  taken  up  £2000  worth  of  shares  in  the  com- 
pany; and  that,  as  at  that  moment  the  com- 
pany's liabilities  would  exactly  absorb  its  assets, 
his  £2000  was  worth  exactly  nothing.  "  You 
may  say,"  he  said,  "I've  lost  that  £2000  in 
thirteen  years.  That  is,  it 's  the  same  as  if  I  'd 
been  steadily  paying  three  pun'  a  week  out  of 
my  own  pocket  to  provide  football  matches  that 
you  chaps  would  n't  take  the  trouble  to  go  and 
see.  That's  the  straight  of  it!  What  have  I 
got  for  my  pains?  Nothing  but  worries,  and 
these !  "  (He  pointed  to  his  grey  hairs.)  "  And 
I  'm  not  alone ;  there  's  others ;  and  now  I  have 
to  come  and  defend  myself  at  a  public  meeting. 
I  'm  supposed  not  to  have  the  best  interests  of 
football  at  heart.  Me  and  my  co-directors,"  he 
proceeded,  with  even  a  rougher  raspishness, 
"  have  warned  the  town  again  and  again  what 
would  happen  if  the  matches  weren't  better 
patronised.     And  now  it 's  happened,  and  now 


338  Denry  the  Audacious 

it's  too  late,  you  want  to  do  something!    You 
can't!     It's  too  late.     There's  only  one  thing 
the  matter  with  first-class  football  in  Bursley," 
he  concluded,  "and  it  isn't  the  players.     It's 
the  public — it's  yourselves.      You're  the  most 
craven     lot     of     tomfools     that     ever    a     big 
football  club  had  to  do  with.      When  we  lose 
a  match,  what  do  you  do?    Do  you  come  and 
encourage  us  next  time?     No,  you  stop  away, 
and  leave  us  fifty  or  sixty  pound  out  of  pocket 
on  a  match,  just  to  teach  us  better!     Do  you 
expect  us  to  win  every  match?    Why,  Preston 
North  End  itself — "  here  he  spoke  solemnly,  of 
heroes — "  Preston  North  End  itself  in  its  great 
days  did  n't  win  every  match— it  lost  to  Accring- 
ton.     But  did  the  Preston  public  desert  it?     No ! 
You — you  have  n't  got  the  pluck  of  a  louse,  nor 
the  faithfulness  of  a  cat.     You  've  starved  your 
Football  Club  to  death,  and  now  you  call  a  meet- 
ing to  weep  and  grumble.     And  you  have  the 
insolence  to  write  letters  to  the  Signal  about 
bad  management,  forsooth!     If  anybody  in  the 
hall  thinks  he  can  manage  this  Club  better  than 
me  and  my  co-directors  have  done,  I  may  say 
that  we  hold  a  majority  of  the  shares,  and  we  '11 
part  with  the  whole  show  to  any  clever  person 
or  persons  who  care  to  take  it  off  our  hands 
at  a  bargain  price.     That's  talking." 

He  sat  down. 

Silence  fell.     Even  in  the  Five  Towns  a  public 


The  Supreme  Honour  339 

meeting  is  seldom  bullied  as  Councillor  Barlow 
had  bullied  that  meeting.  It  was  aghast.  Coun- 
cillor Barlow  had  never  been  popular :  he  had 
merely  been  respected;  but  thenceforward  he 
became  even  less  popular  than  before. 

"  I  'm  sure  we  shall  all  find  Councillor  Bar- 
low's heat  quite  excusable,"  the  Mayor  diplo- 
matically began. 

"  No  heat  at  all,"  the  councillor  interrupted. 
"  Simply  cold  truth !  " 

A  number  of  speakers  followed,  and  nearly 
all  of  them  were  against  the  directors.  Some, 
with  prodigious  memories  for  every  combination 
of  players  in  every  match  that  had  ever  been 
played,  sought  to  prove  by  detailed  instances 
that  Councillor  Barlow  and  his  co-directors  had 
persistently  and  regularly  muddled  their  work 
during  thirteen  industrious  years.  And  they 
defended  the  insulted  public  by  asserting  that 
no  public  that  respected  itself  would  pay  six- 
pence to  watch  the  wretched  football  provided 
by  Councillor  Barlow.  They  shouted  that  the 
team  wanted  reconstituting,  wanted  new  blood. 

"  Yes !  "  shouted  Councillor  Barlow  in  reply. 
"  And  how  are  you  going  to  get  new  blood,  with 
transfer  fees  as  high  as  they  are  now?  You 
can't  get  even  an  average  good  player  for  less 
than  £200.  Where  's  the  money  to  come  from? 
Anybody  want  to  lend  a  thousand  or  so  on  second 
debentures?  " 


340  Denry  the  Audacious 

He  laughed  sneeringly. 

No  one  showed  a  desire  to  invest  in  second 
debentures  of  the  Bursley  F.  C.  Ltd. 

Still,  speakers  kept  harping  on  the  necessity 
of  new  blood  in  the  team,  and  then  others,  bolder, 
harped  on  the  necessity  of  new  blood  on  the 
board. 

"  Shares  on  sale !  "  cried  the  councillor.  "  Any 
buyers?  Or,"  he  added,  "  do  you  want  some- 
thing for  nothing — as  usual?" 

At  length  a  gentleman  rose  at  the  back  of 
the  hall. 

"  I  don't  pretend  to  be  an  expert  on  football," 
said  he,  "  though  I  think  it 's  a  great  game,  but 
I  should  like  to  say  a  few  words  as  to  this 
question  of  new  blood." 

The  audience  craned  its  neck. 

"  Will  Mr.  Councillor  Machin  kindly  step  up 
to  the  platform?  "  the  Mayor  suggested. 

And  up  Denry  stepped. 

The  thought  in  every  mind  was :  "  What 's 
he  going  to  do?  What's  he  got  up  his  sleeve — 
this  time?  " 

"  Three  cheers  for  Machin !  "  people  chanted 
gaily. 

"  Order !  "  said  the  Mayor. 

Denry  faced  the  audience.  He  was  now  ac- 
customed to  audiences.     He  said: 

"  If  I  'm  not  mistaken,  one  of  the  greatest 
modern  footballers  is  a  native  of  this  town." 


The  Supreme  Honour  341 

And  scores  of  voices  yelled :  "  Ay !  Callear ! 
Callear !     Greatest  centre  forward  in  England !  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Denry.  "  Callear  is  the  man  I 
mean.  Callear  left  the  district,  unfortunately 
for  the  district,  at  the  age  of  nineteen,  for  Liver- 
pool. And  it  was  not  till  after  he  left  that  his 
astounding  abilities  were  perceived.  It  isn't 
too  much  to  say  that  he  made  the  fortune  of 
Liverpool  City.  And  I  believe  it  is  the  fact  that 
he  scored  more  goals  in  three  seasons  than  any 
other  player  has  ever  done  in  the  League.  Then, 
York  County,  which  was  in  a  tight  place  last 
year,  bought  him  from  Liverpool  for  a  high 
price,  and,  as  all  the  world  knows,  Callear  had 
his  leg  broken  in  the  first  match  he  played  for 
his  new  club.  That  just  happened  to  be  the 
ruin  of  the  York  Club,  which  is  now  quite  sud- 
denly in  bankruptcy  (which  happily  we  are  not) 
and  which  is  disposing  of  its  players.  Gentle- 
men, I  say  that  Callear  ought  to  come  back  to 
his  native  town.  He  is  fitter  than  ever  he  was, 
and  his  proper  place  is  in  his  native  town." 

Loud  cheers  I 

"  As  captain  and  centre  forward  of  the  club 
of  the  Mother  of  the  Five  Towns  he  would  be 
an  immense  acquisition  and  attraction,  and  he 
would  lead  us  to  victory." 

Renewed  clieers! 

"  And  how,"  demanded  Councillor  Barlow 
jumping  up  angrily,  "  are  we  to  get  him  back 


342  Denry  the  Audacious 

to  his  precious  native  town?  Councillor  Machin 
admits  that  he  is  not  an  expert  on  football.  It 
will  probably  be  news  to  him  that  Aston  Villa 
have  offered  £700  to  York  for  the  transfer  of 
Callear,  and  Blackburn  Rovers  have  offered 
£750,  and  they  're  fighting  it  out  between  'em. 
Any  gentleman  willing  to  put  down  £800  to  buy 
Callear  for  Bursley? "  he  sneered.  "  I  don't 
mind  telling  you  that  steam-engines  and  the 
King  himself  couldn't  get  Callear  into  our  Club." 

"  Quite  finished? "  Denry  inquired,  still 
standing. 

Laughter,  overtopped  by  Councillor  Barlow's 
snort  as  he  sat  down. 

Denry  lifted  his  voice. 

"  Mr.  Callear,  will  you  be  good  enough  to  step 
forward  and  let  us  all  have  a  look  at  you?  " 

The  effect  of  these  apparently  simple  words 
surpassed  any  effect  previously  obtained  by  the 
most  complex  flights  of  oratory  in  that  hall.  A 
young,  blushing,  clumsy,  long-limbed,  small- 
bodied  giant  stumbled  along  the  central  aisle 
and  climbed  the  steps  to  the  platform,  where 
Denry  pointed  him  to  a  seat.  He  was  recog- 
nised by  all  the  true  votaries  of  the  game.  And 
everybody  said  to  everybody :  "  By  Gosh !  It 's 
him  right  enough.  It 's  Callear !  "  And  a  vast 
astonishment  and  expectation  of  good  fortune 
filled  the  hall.  Applause  burst  forth,  and 
though   no  one  knew  what  the  appearance  of 


The  Supreme  Honour  343 

Callear  signified,  the  applause  continued  and 
waxed. 

"  Good  old  Callear !  "  The  hoarse  shouts  suc- 
ceeded each  other.     "  Good  old  Machin  !  " 

"  Anyhow,"  said  Denry,  when  the  storm  was 
stilled,  "  we  've  got  him  here,  without  either 
steam-engines  or  his  Majesty.  Will  the  directors 
of  the  club  accept  him?  " 

"  And  what  about  the  transfer?  "  Councillor 
Barlow  demanded. 

"  Would  you  accept  him  and  try  another 
season  if  you  could  get  him  free?"  Denry 
retorted. 

Councillor  Barlow  always  knew  his  mind,  and 
was  never  afraid  to  let  other  people  share  that 
knowledge. 

"  Yes,"  he  said. 

"  Then  I  will  see  that  you  have  the  transfer 
free." 

"  But  what  about  York?  " 

"  I  have  settled  with  York  provisionally,"  said 
Denry.  "  That  is  my  affair.  I  have  returned 
from  York  to-day.  Leave  all  that  to  me.  This 
town  has  had  many  benefactors  far  more  im- 
portant than  myself.  But  I  shall  be  able  to 
claim  this  originality :  I  'm  the  first  to  make 
a  present  of  a  live  man  to  the  town.  Gentle- 
men— Mr.  Mayor — I  venture  to  call  for  three 
cheers  for  the  greatest  centre  forward  in 
England,  our  fellow-townsman," 


344  Denry  the  Audacious 

The  scene,  as  the  Signal  said,  was  unique. 

And  at  the  Sports  Club  and  the  other  clubs 
afterwards  men  said  to  each  other :  "  No  one 
but  him  would  have  thought  of  bringing  Callear 
over  specially  and  showing  him  on  the  platform. 
.  .  .  That 's  cost  him  above  twopence,  that  has!  " 

Two  days  later  a  letter  appeared  in  the  Signal 
(signed  "  Fiat  Justitia  ")  suggesting  that  Denry, 
as  some  reward  for  his  public  spirit,  ought  to 
be  the  next  mayor  of  Bursley,  in  place  of  Al- 
derman Bloor  deceased.  The  letter  urged  that 
he  would  make  an  admirable  mayor,  the  sort  of 
mayor  the  old  town  wanted  in  order  to  wake  it 
up.  And  also  it  pointed  out  that  Denry  would 
be  the  youngest  mayor  that  Bursley  had  ever 
had,  and  probably  the  youngest  mayor  in  Eng- 
land that  year.  The  sentiment  in  the  last  idea 
appealed  to  the  town.  The  town  decided  that 
it  would  positively  Wee  to  have  the  youngest 
mayor  it  had  ever  had,  and  probably  the  young- 
est mayor  in  England  that  year.  The  Signal 
printed  dozens  of  letters  on  the  subject.  When 
the  Council  met,  more  informally  than  formally, 
to  choose  a  chief  magistrate  in  place  of  the  dead 
alderman,  several  councillors  urged  that  what 
Bursley  wanted  was  a  young  and  popular  mayor. 
And  in  fine  Councillor  Barlow  was  shelved  for 
a  year.  On  the  choice  being  published  the  en- 
tire town  said:  "Now  we  shall  have  a  mayor- 
alty— and  don't  you  forget  it!  " 


The  Supreme  Honour  345 

And  Denry  said  to  Nellie: 

"  You  '11  be  mayoress  to  the  youngest  mayor, 
etc.,  my  child.  And  it 's  cost  me,  including 
hotel  and  travelling  expenses,  eight  hundred  and 
eleven  pounds  six  and  sevenpence." 


Ill 


The  rightness  of  the  Council  in  selecting 
Denry  as  mayor  was  confirmed  in  a  singular 
manner  by  the  behaviour  of  the  football  and 
of  Callear  at  the  opening  match  of  the  season. 

It  was  a  philanthropic  match,  between  Burs- 
ley  and  Axe,  for  the  benefit  of  a  county  orphan- 
age, and,  according  to  the  custom  of  such 
matches,  the  ball  was  formally  kicked  off  by  a 
celebrity,  a  pillar  of  society.  The  ceremony  of 
kicking  off  has  no  sporting  significance;  the 
celebrity  merely  with  gentleness  propels  the  ball 
out  of  the  white  circle  and  then  flies  for  his 
life  from  the  melee;  but  it  is  supposed  to  add 
to  the  moral  splendour  of  the  game.  In  the 
present  instance  the  posters  said :  "  Kick-off  at 
3.45  by  Councillor  E.  H.  Machin,  Mayor- 
designate."  And  indeed  no  other  celebrity 
could  have  been  decently  selected.  On  the  fine 
afternoon  of  the  match  Denry  therefore  discov- 
ered himself  with  a  new  football  at  his  toes,  a 
silk  hat  on  his  head,  and  twenty-two  Herculean 
players  menacing  him  in  attitudes  expressive  of 


346  Denry  the  Audacious 

an  intention  to  murder  him.  Bursley  had  lost 
the  toss,  and  hence  Denry  had  to  kick  towards 
the  Bursley  goal.  As  the  Signal  said,  he  "  de- 
spatched the  sphere"  straight  into  the  keeping 
of  Callear,  who  as  centre  forward  w^as  facing 
him,  and  Callear  was  dodging  down  the  field 
with  it  before  the  Axe  players  had  finished  ad- 
miring Denry's  effrontery.  Every  reader  will 
remember  with  a  thrill  the  historic  match  in 
which  the  immortal  Jimmy  Brown,  on  the  last 
occasion  when  he  captained  Blackburn  Eovers, 
dribbled  the  ball  himself  down  the  length  of 
the  field,  scored  a  goal,  and  went  home  with 
the  English  Cup  under  his  arm.  Callear  evi- 
dently intended  to  imitate  the  feat.  He  was 
entirely  wrong.  Dribbling  tactics  had  been 
killed  for  ever,  years  before,  by  Preston  North 
End,  w^ho  invented  the  "  passing "  game.  Yet 
Callear  went  on,  and  good  luck  seemed  to  float 
over  him  like  a  cherub.  Finally  he  shot;  a  wild, 
high  shot ;  but  there  was  an  adverse  wind  which 
dragged  the  ball  down,  swept  it  round,  and  blew 
it  into  the  net.  The  first  goal  had  been  scored 
in  twenty  seconds!  (It  was  also  the  last  in 
the  match.)  Callear's  reputation  was  estab- 
lished. Useless  for  solemn  experts  to  point  out 
that  he  had  simply  been  larking  for  the  gallery, 
and  that  the  result  was  a  shocking  fluke — Cal- 
lear's reputation  was  established.  He  became  at 
once  the  idol  of  the  populace.     As  Denry  walked 


The  Supreme  Honour  347 

gingerly  off  tlie  field  to  the  grandstand  he  too 
was  loudly  cheered,  and  he  could  not  help  feel- 
ing that,  somehow,  it  was  he  who  had  scored 
that  goal.  And  although  nobody  uttered  the 
precise  thought,  most  people  did  secretly  think, 
as  they  gazed  at  the  triumphant  Denry,  that  a 
man  who  triumphed  like  that,  because  he  tri- 
umphed like  that,  was  the  right  sort  of  man  to 
be  mayor,  the  kind  of  man  they  needed. 

Denry  became  indentified  with  the  highest 
class  of  local  football.  This  fact  led  to  a  curious 
crisis  in  the  history  of  municipal  manners.  On 
Corporation  Sunday  the  mayor  walks  to  church, 
preceded  by  the  mace,  and  followed  by  the  al- 
dermen and  councillors,  the  borough  officials, 
the  volunteers,  and  the  fire  brigade;  after  all 
these,  in  the  procession,  come  individuals  known 
as  prominent  citizens.  Now  the  first  and  second 
elevens  of  the  Bursley  Football  Club,  headed  by 
Callear,  expressed  their  desire  to  occupy  a  place 
in  Denry's  mayoral  procession ;  they  felt  that 
some  public  acknowledgment  was  due  to  the 
mayor  for  his  services  to  the  national  sport. 
Denry  instantly  agreed,  with  thanks:  the  notion 
seemed  to  him  entirely  admirable.  Then  some 
unfortunately-inspired  parson  wrote  to  the 
Signal  to  protest  against  professional  football- 
ers following  the  chief  magistrate  of  the  borough 
to  church.  TTis  arguments  were  that  such  a 
thing  was  unheard  of,  and   that  football  was 


348  Denry  the  Audacious 

the  cause  of  a  great  deal  of  evil  gambling. 
Some  people  were  inclined  to  agree  with  the 
protest,  until  Denry  wrote  to  the  Signal  and 
put  a  few  questions:  Was  Bursley  proud  of 
its  football  team?  Or  was  Bursley  ashamed  of 
its  football  team?  Was  the  practice  of  football 
incompatible  with  good  citizenship?  Was  there 
anything  dishonourable  in  playing  football? 
Ought  professional  footballers  to  be  considered 
as  social  pariahs?  Was  there  any  class  of 
beings  to  whom  the  churches  ought  to  be  closed? 

The  parson  foundered  in  a  storm  of  oppro- 
brium, scorn,  and  ironic  laughter.  Though  the 
tow^n  laughed,  it  only  laughed  to  hide  its  disgust 
of  the  parson. 

People  began  to  wonder  whether  the  teams 
would  attend  in  costume  carrying  the  football 
between  them  on  a  charger  as  a  symbol.  No 
such  multitudes  ever  greeted  a  mayoral  proces- 
sion in  Bursley  before.  The  footballers,  how- 
ever, appeared  in  ordinary  costume  (many  of 
them  in  frock-coats)  ;  but  they  wore  neckties 
of  the  club  colours,  a  device  which  was  agreed 
to  be  in  the  nicest  taste.  St.  Luke's  Church 
was  crowded;  and,  what  is  stranger,  the  church- 
yard was  also  crowded.  The  church  barely  held 
the  procession  itself  and  the  ladies  who  by  in- 
fluence had  been  accommodated  with  seats  in 
advance.  Thousands  of  persons  filled  the  church- 
yard, and  to  prevent  them  from  crushing  into 


The  Supreme  Honour  349 

the  packed  fane  and  bursting  it  at  its  weakest 
point,  the  apse,  the  doors  had  to  be  locked  and 
guarded.  Four  women  swooned  during  the 
service;  neither  Mrs.  Machin,  senior,  nor  Nellie 
was  among  the  four.  It  was  the  first  time  that 
any  one  had  been  known  to  swoon  at  a  religious 
service  held  in  November.  This  fact  alone  gave 
a  tremendous  prestige  to  Denry's  mayoralty. 
When,  with  Nellie  on  his  arm,  he  emerged  from 
the  church  to  the  thunders  of  the  organ,  the 
greeting  which  he  received  in  the  churchyard, 
though  the  solemnity  of  the  occasion  forbade 
clapping,  lacked  naught  in  brilliance  and 
ef&cacy. 

The  real  point  and  delight  of  that  Corporation 
Sunday  was  not  fully  appreciated  till  later.  It 
had  been  expected  that  the  collection  after  the 
sermon  would  be  much  larger  than  usual,  be- 
cause the  congregation  was  much  larger  than 
usual.  But  the  churchwardens  were  startled  to 
find  it  four  times  as  large  as  usual.  They  were 
further  startled  to  find  only  three  threepenny- 
bits  among  all  the  coins.  This  singularity  led 
to  comment  and  to  note-comparing.  Everybody 
had  noticed  for  weeks  past  a  growing  dearth 
of  threepenny-bits.  Indeed,  threepenny-bits  had 
practically  vanished  from  circulation  in  the  Five 
Towns.  On  the  Monday  it  became  known  that 
the  clerks  of  the  various  branches  of  the  Uni- 
versal Thrift  Club,  Limited,  had  paid  into  the 


350  Denry  the  Audacious 

banks  enormous  and  unparalleled  quantities  of 
threepenny-bits;  and  for  at  least  a  week  after- 
wards everybody  paid  for  everything  in  three- 
penny-bits. And  the  piquant  news  passed  from 
mouth  to  mouth  that  Denry,  to  the  simple  end 
of  ensuring  a  thumping  collection  for  charities 
on  Corporation  Sunday,  had  used  the  vast  or- 
ganisation of  the  Thrift  Club  to  bring  about  a 
famine  of  threepenny-bits.  In  the  annals  of  the 
town  that  Sunday  is  referred  to  as  "  Three- 
penny-bit Sunday,"  because  it  was  so  happily 
devoid  of  threepenny-bits. 

A  little  group  of  councillors  were  discussing 
Denry. 

"  What  a  card ! "  said  one,  laughing  joyously. 
"  He  's  a  rare  'un,  no  mistake!  " 

"  Of  course,  this  '11  make  him  more  popular 
than  ever,"  said  another.  "  We  've  never  had  a 
man  to  touch  him  for  that." 

"  And  yet,"  demanded  Councillor  Barlow, 
"  what 's  he  done?  Has  he  ever  done  a  day's 
work  in  his  life?  What  great  cause  is  he 
identified  with?  " 

"  He 's  identified,"  said  the  first  speaker, 
"  with  the  great  cause  of  cheering  us  all  up." 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 

This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


,DEC  1 6  19k 

HOV  2      1953 
^^^  9     1962 


iB       REC'D  LD 

m    SEP  2: 


OCT  2  0  1970 


BliC'D  LD-UfiD 


iJAHl 


PR 


1  3  1974 


OCT  2  5  1974 


Form  L9-42m-8.'49(B5573)  444 


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UNIVERSITY  OF  CAWFORNIA 


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